How Fiercely We Loved
by My Broken Quill
Summary: “My brother,” she croaked, “he's Hector …” he nodded to show that he knew even as relief coursed through him. She wasn't the man's wife. “He'll give you anything you want for my safe return.” Achilles/OFC ADULT TOPICS
1. Dusty Plains Of Troy

_AN: Hey all, my first story and it's a long one ... well I am known for reaching too far too fast but don't worry this story is done. I've already typed it up and will be updating at regular intervals, so no stress people. I'm a bit nervous ... I'm kind of in love with this story and my characters in it and I really hope you guys love 'em too. God maybe I'm more then a bit nervous but it'll probably pass once I get a few reviews - HINT HINT - lol._

**Dusty Plains Of Troy**

He stood on the dusty plains of Troy, the harsh midday sun beat down on him, and sweat trickled down his back in a steady stream. Everywhere he turned bronze, silver and the occasional flashy gold of men's armour glinted, making him squint.

He could hear Odysseus prepping his Cephallenians, Ajax's voice boomed louder then anyone, warning his men exactly what would happen they disgraced him. Heavy booms made it pretty clear what fate would befall them.

Achilles rolled his neck and grimaced as sweat squelched underneath the leather, beside him Eudorus once again cursed the Trojans. They were used to the heat, Greece wasn't as hot as this but they had fought in scorching places similar to this abroad, but that didn't mean they had to like it, and after such a lengthy break from war the men were understandably rusty and civilised.

"Look!" called out a Cretan, his dull bronze breast plate barely gleamed in the sun and the only pattern on it were some thin squiggles and a badly done bull in the centre, one of its horns higher then the other, its left eye drooping pathetically. Achilles turned with all the others to see what the fuss was about. They were too far away to make things out clearly but at the top of the gate, in an exclusive section for the Royal family and their friends, he saw an old man, a little stooped, with blazing white hair and glittering chunks of gold that played havoc on his eyes. Next to him stood a lady, her hair an iron grey, her clothes a rich cream, the gold draping her neck, arms, ears, waist and head, brighter, bigger and encrusted with gems he could spot from all the way here.

He imagined Agamemnon salivating.

Next to the old couple stood a dark haired man. The Prince? Was this Troy's Hector? He turned to Eudorus to ask but was distracted by the opening of the gates, it was said the God Poseidon himself had built them and no army had ever breached it. The Trojans flooded out, a sea of swarthy looking men, shorter then the Achaeans but wide and sturdy looking. Dark haired and bronze skinned, their heavily decorated armour was as thick and as heavy as it looked and they moved with an order that the majority of the Achaeans lacked. A group of men on fine horses ambled out after the soldiers, he took one look at them and dismissed them, most of them were old and potbellied, none of them looked like Troy's favourite son. No, his enemy was not one of them. He looked past them, looked through the gate and into Troy and there he spotted the man. Now _this _was Hector, he _knew_ this was Hector, could tell by the way he stood, a warrior's grace and by the-

All the thoughts of where he was, what he was here to do and who he was vanished. The firm grip he had on his sword weakened and it almost slipped out of his grasp, he pushed past whoever was in front of him to get a better view. The Prince was embracing someone, a short someone in a white peplos with careful cobalt designs on the arms and around the bottom of the skirt.

She was chattering away to him with a large toothy smile on her thin face. She was young, he could tell she was young from all the way here by the reckless way she smiled and bounced on the tips of her toes. And she was devastatingly adorable. Dark black hair, some tight, some merely wavy, spilled over her shoulders in a mess of curls, framing her tanned face. She wasn't tall, extremely short actually, the Prince, not exactly a tall man himself, had to bend far to embrace her. And she was flat all over. The chiton didn't tent where breasts should be, didn't curve round a delicate rear, nor did it veil hips just perfect for child bearing. No bard would liken her to Aphrodite, or Artemis, yet he was drawn to her all the same and it was because of that smile. The radiance of it attracted him like crows to a carcass. That smile amidst looming war, those big eyes in a small face that beamed as well and that impatient way she brushed away a stray curl making it stick up in an awkward manner.

Hector patted it back down.

Achilles watched.

"Who is that?" he murmured without taking his eyes of the pair. God he hoped it wasn't the man's wife.

"Helen, Sire," replied Eudorus with awe.

"Helen?" startled he turned to Eudorus. "Isn't Helen blonde?" Eudorus nodded without looking at him, feeling confused Achilles fallowed the man's entranced gaze back to the gate and saw to his surprise another couple standing mere feet away from the one he had been transfixed on.

A pretty, young man with clear, barely sun kissed skin that only ever belonged to spoilt Princes stood with his arm around the blonde haired beauty he had heard so much about. Straight hair the colour of golden wheat, that from even here looked as soft as Egyptian silk, cascaded down her waist like a waterfall. And her curves -from her bountiful breasts to her entrancing hips filled her richly decorated white and gold chiton in a way that was making the men uncomfortable. Her skin was rosy and fair, and unblemished by the sun, slaves stood around her in bevies holding sunshades and peacock feather fans.

This was Aphrodite in human form, bards would churn out songs about her and men would fight over her with their dying breaths, her beauty wouldn't fade, not even after the years caught up with her and when she died women would still be compared with her and found lacking. Yet though her beauty stirred him and though he acknowledged her as being the most beautiful being he had ever seen, his eyes drank her in and then shifted back to the little crow who was now laughing hard at something Prince Hector had said. Maybe it was the melancholy tilt of Helen's face, the wistful smile, or the deadened look in those sky blue eyes, good weather blue that is. Achilles had never seen a woman like her, and it was unlikely that he would ever see another, but he had seen that hopeless war trodden look on thousands before.

On children who had lost parents and stood orphaned and alone on street corners begging for scraps and offering their bodiesin return. On wives who smeared dirt on their faces and clawed at their own flesh when their husbands never came home. On fathers with urns in their hands who talked of nothing except the end of their line and who would bury them now when they died. On young men- barely boys- who flinched at the slightest sound and dreamed of blood soaked grounds and maggots feasting on dead brothers, and cousins, and friends, and woke up to scarred skin and missing limbs and vomit choking up their throats.

She looked like every one of them, and he didn't care for that look.

"No, her. The one with the Prince."

Eudorus spared Hector and his companion a quick glance and then shrugged apologetically, "I'm sorry my lord." Achilles' anger shot upwards.

"The girl, Achilles? With Hector?" asked Odysseus as he pushed his way to the front to get a good look at Helen. His smile lined face with its shifty looking eyes tugged downwards into a curious frown. "Why?"

"Just answer me," he gritted out. His anger kicked almost to its peak when the girl embraced the Prince and he lifted her into his arms so that her head rested on his shoulder.

He found himself instinctively taking a step forward.

Odysseus didn't look all that taken aback by his tone, everyone was used to his moods by now but his clever eyes were taking everything in, shifting from Achilles back to the couple at the gates. "I think that is his sister, though I can't be sure. It's not the wife, I saw Andromache once, before she married … although maybe Hector too has many wives, like his father? Menelaus should be able to tell you more." Achilles spared him a questioning glance. "Many of the Princes' came down to Sparta during the Peace Treaty and Menelaus came here a few times as well."

The idea of searching for Menelaus seemed not only excruciatingly tempting but highly logical, even if they were lined up for battle, his men needed him and the Greeks were expecting him to win the war for them.

"Why?" Odysseus asked breaking him out of his rambling thoughts.

"I want her."

_AN: I am a Classics and Archeo student so the details may be a bit much - okay a lot much - but I don't do it on purpose! And trust me this is the watered down version, my first draft was uh ... hmmm we'll leave it at that. But you cannot believe how much I stressed over the tiniest things, like over the dress descriptions, especially since I found out that they mostly tend to wear white ... well that wasn't fun fiction wise so I had to ignore that point ... but it nearly killed me. It did. No seriously._

_Oh another important point is that I've tried to sort of blend it in, you will see a bit of the movie in it but there is also a lot of the Iliad in it, and the characters sway more towards Homer than Petersen._

**_This is just something that I want to know, hoping you might answer it. What do you think of Helen's description, beautiful enough? I know she's not todays idea of sheer beauty, she will be a little more curvy and umm bountiful, but the Greeks idealised women like her back then. I got it mostly from ancient Greek statues, especially the one of Aphrodite of Cnidus and Venus de'Medici._**

**_Also, can you understand the military talk? Or is that still a little confusing. Just tell me guys, in the end it's you lot who have to put up with my crappy work._**


	2. Like A Lark

_AN: Scond chapter!! ... Really no point in writing more ... but I wanted to use the pretty space ..._

**Like A Lark**

The battle continued to rage furiously with no signs of ending or even abating. His muscles burned deliciously and his breathing was just beginning to come in raspy pulls. His body was slick with sweat and sizzled every time hot blood sprayed onto him. He had spent a little while hounding Troy's ally, Agenor, who after killing Elepenor, one of the Euboean leaders, had thrown a spear at him, which glanced off his greaves and sent him crashing to the ground. His greaves were a little damaged, there was a bump in the bronze that kept cutting into his ankle, but it wouldn't kill him so he jumped back to his feet to face the cocky bastard.

Agenor took one look at the fury on his face and turned tail; Achilles pursued him but lost the coward amongst the throng when another ally of Troy, Sarpedon, engaged him in battle. He pushed Sarpedon back until they were only just out of the range of the Trojan archers at the gate and then lost him in the chaos when Greece's ally, Thoas and his Aetolians, started aiming spears at everything that moved. He looked up at the gates, quickly sidestepped a wayward spear, searched for a head of chaotic black curls but was soon surrounded by a group of twelve Thracians. Achilles sighed, spared another quick glance at the gate, hefted his sword a little higher and charged at the burliest looking man there.

X

The sun had begun to set and he could hear Agamemnon on his chariot ordering everyone to pull back and head to the camps they had set up on the beach of Troy. The Trojans too were calling for their men. His Myrmidons had finally gravitated towards him, looking tired and spent, all covered in blood. Eudorus was holding his fingers, one or more must be broken, and another one of his men was bleeding from the ears and looked a little dazed. Apparently a heavy Trojan shield had caught the young soldier round the head with enough force to have knocked him out for quite a portion of the battle. Achilles duly dismissed the man to go see a physician, head wounds were dangerous in this trade and he doubted whether the soldier would survive the night.

The other leaders were already beginning to head back to the camp but Achilles hung back a little, he was hoping for a last look even though it was improbable that she would come. But maybe she would appear at the gate to welcome her - husband.

"My lord?" Eudorus questioned having noted the snail's pace they were going at. Achilles ignored him and stared at the gates, which were beginning to open. His heart pulsed in excitement when a little head with a lot of black hair peered round the gap and began calling Hector's name. Someone quickly pulled her back in and he could hear Hector shouting angrily, telling them to keep a better eye on her.

Hector, he had been right, was the broad shouldered man he had seen with her earlier. His browned face was wise and pensive; he was young but his eyes held years that shouldn't belong to him yet. Achilles watched curiously as Hector held a bloodied hand out to the men who were opening the gate, stopping her from coming out any further. Achilles sped up a little but kept his eyes on them, his men trundled along tiredly behind him. Hector waited until he was a safe distance away then motioned to one of the guards, who cleaned him up as best as he could then covered him with a large cloth. Only after he had done all this did the bastard motion to his wife, who with a squeal shot through the gap and flew into his arms knocking him back a few steps. The wary pensive look vanished from the Prince's face and immediately he looked years younger, favouring his right arm he pulled his wife closer to his chest and leaned down to kiss her on each eyelid.

Achilles couldn't wait to meet him on the battlefield.

He could see her mouth working furiously and caught the answering smile on her husband's face. Hector nodded towards him and the girl's gaze swung round to meet his own.

Grey - she had gorgeous grey eyes.

She stared at him in frightened awe, eyes big, mouth gaping and for the first time in his life he wished he wasn't covered in blood, dirt and Zeus knew what else, but more worryingly, for he first time in his life he wished he wasn't Greek.

X

Just as summer in Troy was a burning miserable occasion, akin to being roasted alive in the fires of Tartarus, winter too proved to be nothing to look forward to. Achilles found himself missing sweating out his body weight in water when compared to being flung around by the cold nippy wind that stung like daggers and put out fires if you didn't guard it religiously. Twelve men had already died from a fever, and the fact that they were camped out on a beach didn't help matters.

The fighting, as was custom, had stopped for the winter and he, for the most part, hadn't even been in Troy, Agamemnon had sent him first to Chryse, an ally of Troy, which he had sacked and gifted to the King, along with a concubine he had been especially pleased with. Then he and Odysseus had been sent with their men to Lyrnessos, a small town owned by Priam, which had given them a bit of trouble, what with the women committing mass suicide and all. They had come back with hoards of plunder but hardly any women, the men hadn't been pleased but a good haul from the sacking of Tenedos had shut them up. The lion's share of that too went to Agamemnon.

Now he, Achilles, Greece's favourite son, Athena's so-called champion, was on scouting duty, by the order of Agamemnon who had looked disgustingly gleeful when telling him to scour the woods with his Myrmidons as if he was some common-

"Ooof! Oh for - curse these bloody Trojans!" exclaimed Odysseus angrily as he tripped on another gnarled root. His friend had seen the angry look on Achilles' face when he had been commanded to scout in front of all the other Lords and had immediately volunteered to help, and was probably regretting doing so now.

There had been sightings of travellers through here, probably escapees from the city, and rumours that the old King Priam was gong to send his youngest son, Polydorus, to King Polymestor of Thrace. Along with _mountains'_ of gold and a _sea _of Priam's best jewellery. He doubted whether a Prince on the run would be travelling with any amount of gold or jewellery but Agamemnon seemed rather set on the idea and hadn't been swayed no matter how much he had laughed. He had however bristled and gone an exquisite red colour when Achilles had asked him if he thought that the thick gold sets Priam and his Queen had been wearing on the day of the first battle would be there as well.

Agamemnon seemed to know exactly which set he had been talking about.

He had been dismissed with a snarl.

Even if it was to capture a Prince this was still rather demeaning, apparently, young Polydorus had a face as smooth as a baby's bottom and_ a voice like a lark_. It was highly unlikely that the boy would give them a hard time_…_still Achilles chose to be optimistic, after all such a _special _young Prince would no doubt be travelling with crowd of soldiers- no a legion- no, no, no- a whole army- several-

Hooves clopped softly from somewhere nearby and Achilles sprang to attention, his head snapping towards the sound like a hunting dog. Odysseus fell silent behind him and they both unsheathed their swords at the same time, together they crept towards the sound to investigate.

This was just not his day.

A lone horse, carrying a huge blond man and a small figure wrapped in a grey cloth that obscured everything apart from the eyes, was slowly riding through the trees. He looked at Odysseus, who nodded back at him and without speaking leapt lightly to his feet, disappearing into the foliage. Achilles tailed the traveller until the owl's hooting broke the silence, the traveller stilled and studied the forest, frowning he picked up his pace. Achilles stepped out with his sword unsheathed, "who goes there?"

The man jerked in surprise and the clothed figure emitted a small muffled gasp, the rider tried to force the horse into a run but quickly turned the gesture into a pat halfway when Odysseus stepped out in front of them with a taut bow.

"Diokles, son of Euphranor, my lord," said the man.

"And what are you doing here, son of Euphranor?" Achilles taunted, the obscured figure whimpered.

"I- nothing my lord." Achilles raised his brow in response. "My wife and I are from Delos, we were going through Troy to trade in black-figure pottery but then the war … ships aren't allowed to leave, and so …"

"So you decided to escape back to Delos on horse back?" he asked sceptically. Delos was an island.

"No my lord, there is a ship waiting for us," the man hesitated and then added, "Delos is not at war with the Achaeans my lord."

"Neither is it an ally of the Achaeans," shot back Achilles. The man tightened his grip on the reins, his face turning a ruddy colour.

"We are not Trojans. This is not our war. We just want to go home." His wife trembled and reached up a thin hand to clutch at his tunic, the man bent down to murmur something in her ear, the trembling lessened but did not stop.

"What do we do?" Odysseus asked.

The traveller was blond where Trojans were dark and his skin certainly had the tanned look of travelling merchants. He certainly could be foreign. His orders had been to find and bring back a boy; nothing had been said about merchants and their skinny wives. It would probably be wise to send them to Agamemnon anyway, just to be on the safe side, and the wife may be good enough to please Agamemnon for a while, although from her plank-thin figure he doubted it.

"You may go." Odysseus murmured his disagreement but Achilles ignored him. He could already picture the livid look on Agamemnon's face, and that would be worth any amount of scouting duties. And if the _King of Kings _stomped his podgy feet and threw a tantrum then Achilles would willingly sing Hector a love song of his own making.

The man stayed tense but bowed and kicked the horse into a frisk walk anyway. The horse cantered past them and it was at this point that he gave the wife a proper look and saw large grey eyes, wide with fear, staring back at him. He stood there - frozen, in a daze for a few seconds, unable to fully comprehend exactly what he had seen.

Was it her? It couldn't be. Could it?

"Stop!"

The blond man looked back at him, saw the expression on his face and kicked his horse into a sprint.

Then it was all a blur of motion and sound, and everything was over in moments. He ran after the horse, Odysseus took aim, he screamed at Odysseus to stop but it was too late. The arrow flew and hit the horse, it reared up and fell with a crash that shook the frost covered Earth and a sickening crack reverberated through the woods.

Then everything was silent.

The horse neighed in pain, writhing on its side the reins still tangled in its owners hold. The two figures lay near it, interwoven in such a way that he could not tell who had cushioned whom.

They were still. And there was blood.

* * *

_AN: Okay so we've begun to delve a little deeper and we've been allowed to look into Agamemnon's character but don't write him off just yet as someone you've figured out already. There is a LOT more to Agamemnon then meets the eye._

**_One thing I was really having an issue with is the battle scenes, I love realism and I like my heroes to be as imperfect as possible so I had a big problem with making him be all "fought like a god" ... so you tell me ... is it enough? Did I pull it off or does it need to be more godlike?_**


	3. An Inner War

_AN: Urgh! I love and hate bits in this chapter ... god an the title is terrible._

**An Inner War**

"Achilles?" called out Odysseus.

Achilles hefted his sword and swivelled round to face his friend, murder glinting ominously in his eyes. Anger flaring in him like a living breathing beast. Odysseus looked confused but didn't dare pull out his sword in response, that would only goad Achilles further and he couldn't afford to do that. The blond warrior stepped towards Odysseus and Odysseus' heart leapt to his throat - but it was at that moment that he saw movement behind Achilles.

Diokles was quietly pushing his little wife to her feet; she seemed to be too dazed to manage this on her own and kept sliding back to the ground, clutching at her head. Diokles covered her mouth and used his other hand to shove her onto the now kneeling horse, pulling her down so that her head rested on its mane. Odysseus should have cried out a warning but he couldn't, he was too transfixed by the strange manner in which the blond man was moving, using his hands to pull himself across the ground, even though he had two perfectly good fe- oh dear god!

A greener soldier would have lost his stomach at the sight. The man's legs were broken, and bone, covered in vivid red blood, jutted out in more than one place. Already the blood was pooling on the ground and his skin was turning an ashen white colour.

The very moment he called out Achilles' name, the man slapped the horse hard making the creature jolt to its feet and take off as if Hades himself was chasing it. Achilles turned, saw what had happened, yelled out a furious 'no!' and ran after the horse with long strides. Without looking, he hurled his sword at the dying man getting him right through the chest.

The big blond giant went hurtling to the ground and stopped moving.

X

Apollina awoke to find herself sitting on the horse by herself with a blinding headache and a body that ached everywhere. Her hair felt sticky but not in the way that sweat would make it feel. Her robe was drenched in blood, still wet, warm, and after the initial panic she realised it wasn't hers. After all, if she had bled that much then she was sure she wouldn't be alive right now. Then she re-remembered that she was alone and panic seeped in.

"Cleon?" she pulled at the reins of the slowing horse and it stuttered to a standstill then began walking again. "Cleon!" Her voice was too soft to carry far but she was scared to speak any louder, she pulled at the reins again but the horse ignored her. She looked to the left and was greeted by trees; the right gave her the same view, as did the front and the back. Plenty of shrubbery but no Cleon.

Cleon, the son of an ex-slave from far away who now served in the Trojan army, who had been chosen especially by Hector to get her to the boat that was waiting on the other side of these trees somewhere. The boat that would take her to Thebes where her brother was in the protection of its King. Cleon had escorted Polydorus as well, the trick, her father had said, was in not looking suspicious. After all, who would suspect a lone foreigner in the company of a clothed 'woman' to be Prince Polydorus or Princess Apollina?

Except it had gone wrong for her and now she was alone … and scared and hurting so badly she was sure she was dying. You couldn't possibly hurt this much and stay alive. A sob escaped her.

_Where in Zeus__'__ name is Cleon?_

Her father would give her a good telling off for invoking the god's name in this manner but right now, she couldn't bring herself to care. The horse thrashed its head whipping the reins right out of her hands and making her jump in fright.

She hadn't been allowed on warhorses alone, Hector had said they were too high strung, dangerous, and after Troilus, one of her brothers, had told her the tale of the flesh eating horses she hadn't been all that keen to get on one anyway.

Alone or otherwise.

She tried reaching down for the reins but her body throbbed when she bent so she abandoned that quest and began to cry in earnest now. She wanted her big brother; he could sort out this mess _like that_. He would murmur to this stupid animal and make it jump backwards if he wished. She couldn't even sit on it properly without sliding all over the place.

Something rustled behind her and she turned in the hope that it was Hector, or at least Cleon, and was met with the sight of Achilles leaping through the foliage like a lion.

She had never seen a lion in the wild, let alone a leaping lion, but Hector had once gone on a hunt some while back with a few dignitaries and had described how a lion they had been tracking had leapt out at them. All sleek and graceful, he had described, not obviously built and yet corded with enough power to crush a man and tear him to pieces.

Deceivingly dangerous, was the word Hector had used.

She screamed shrilly and kicked the horse hard in the flanks, it grunted and began to run again, speeding up so much that the force sent her sliding back a little. Tears streamed down her eyes blinding her on top of everything else. She couldn't see where she was going or how close he was so she took one hand off the horse's mane; it shook, and yanked off the cloth wrapped around her head.

It whipped out of her hand and flew behind her.

The horse burst through the trees and onto the plains in front of Troy and began heading for the city without her guidance, hope flared in her and she dared a quick look behind.

Achilles looked a lot close then he had been.

With another panicked scream, she kicked the horse repeatedly; it sped up, putting some distance between them.

Then, out of the right, men on horses came streaming out of the forest and the speed they were going at made hers look like a fast trot. Her screaming was so high pitched now that the horse sped up without any assistance from her. The men on horseback loomed closer. Her stupid animal began to slow again.

She was going to die.

They were so close now that she could make out the gaps in one scruffy looking man's teeth and saw that one of them had a scar that went from his forehead to his chin. She began to wail.

The gate was close but the men were closer.

"HECTOR! HECTOR! HECTOR!" she screamed even though she knew no one could hear her from this distance. She should be calling out to Apollo, the city's patron god, but nothing came to her mind except Hector's name. One of the men, a shrewd looking man with pale eyes and messy brown hair, reached out to grab her, she twisted away from him, momentarily forgetting that she was terrible at riding, and fell off the horse with a crash. The pale-eyed man jerked his horse to a stop and made to jump down but stopped when an arrow whizzed passed him and hit the fellow riding next to him, sending him sprawling to the ground in a writhing heap. Soon the air was rent with flying arrows and spears, and the Achaeans scattered.

Apollina couldn't sit up so she just turned her head to see why they were running and saw that the gates of Troy had been flung open and looking like Ares himself came her brother and what looked like half the Trojan army. He hadn't even put on his armour; all he had was his spear, a horse, and a frighteningly murderous look on his face.

When people had used words like fearsome or chilling to describe him, she had never been able to understand it. After all, this was the same man who was too shy to do more than hold his wife's hand in front of his parents, made little wooden carvings for Astnyax, even though the boy could hardly lift them by himself. He even took the time to learn how to plait her hair, despite the fact that they had slaves to do it, and not even her own mother knew how to do so. But now she understood. Her brother was barely visible in this man and that might have frightened her had he not hurtled down from his horse before it even came to a stop and pulled her carefully into his arms.

"Oh gods! Oh gods, I nearly … oh gods," his normally steady voice was broken and shaky and that petrified her more than anything, she cried so hard that she had trouble breathing and despite the pain she tried to burrow closer to him. He held her even closer; body shivering as she sobbed then gently hauled her up and walked back to the horse.

He saw Achilles watching his every move from a safe distance; he was on horseback and stood alongside another fellow with blond hair and a young face. One of his men aimed a spear at him, his companion jerked his horse backwards but the famed warrior merely ducked his head and then continued watching him steadily. Hector gasped in amazement along with everyone else.

_Impossible_.

X

"My daughter! Look what those barbarians have done to my little girl!"

Hecuba with her head of iron-grey hair and a face full of wrinkles looked more likely to be her grandmother then her mother. In fact, if he had married as young as his father had then he would have had a child the same age if not older then Apollina. The old Queen was sobbing as she clutched her youngest child's purpling hand, beside her, Andromache, who had always considered Apollina to be like a daughter to her despite the fact that there were fewer years between them, was crying a little more quietly though just as earnestly.

Apollina had been given something by the priest for the pain, after a hurried invocation to Apollo of course, but that had made her sleepy. Now, lying ever so still on the pallet, mottled with bruises, covered with flaking blood, that they had only just discovered wasn't all hers, she looked dead …

An uneasy feeling rose up in him and he quashed the need to go check on her breathing but nevertheless paid special attention to her chest … it rose.

She was breathing.

Someone was crying quietly nearby. He turned and spotted Helen standing just outside the doorway, peering in with sad eyes. It would have been easy to hate her; all he would have to do is look at his baby sister again, lying so still that she looked _dead_. Yes, it would have been easy to hate, but it would have been wrong too, and pointless. "Come in Helen."

She looked up at him with such a thankful expression that he felt bad for not having called for her as well when he had arrived with Apollina, he had asked for his father, mother and wife.

Helen had come by herself.

She ran to his sister's side and reached for her other hand; this one a little less bruised then the other. A furious Hecuba launched to her feet, "Don't you dare touch her!" wisps of grey hair fell out of her bun but she barely noticed it.

"Mother," Hector intervened tiredly. He was sick of it, sick of it all, as if the war outside wasn't enough there was a war just as big going on inside. Although he wasn't one to keep up with the palace gossips one would have to be dead to not notice the feud that was taking place, especially when one's mother, wife and sister was in the thick of it. The entire palace had been divided into two groups, those that liked Helen and those that didn't, the former, he noticed, were a rather small number. Which weren't a surprise when the head of the latter was the Queen, the future Queen, and the future King of Troy's favourite sister. Helen's supporters were mainly young princesses who were awed by her beauty, lusty princes and the King. One would think that the King's approval would seal the matter but between the three of them they had nearly all the bases covered, his mother held influence over the older women, his wife over the married women and his sister over the young girls. They hadn't done much, just ignored her and excluded her, so Hector hadn't intervened.

"It's all that Greek bitch's fault! My sons are dying for her and now she wants my daughters too!"

"Enough!" came his father's voice, steady enough even at this age to silence everyone. He stared down his wife who glared mutinously back at him. "What's done is done, there is no use putting the blame on anyone. By Apollo's grace she is alive and from here we will do nothing but be thankful." Behind Priam Paris slunk in to comfort his wife who was crying beautifully on the floor. "Hecuba, have the priests prepare a sacrifice to Apollo." Hector started to argue but one look from his father shut him up.

_Great._

This was just what they needed when they were barricaded in Troy with no food coming in.

* * *

_AN: Okay more about what I was complaining about above. I'm not all that sure about Odysseus' reaction, **what do you guys think?** I quite like the scene where she wakes up alone and where the mother is crying but I'm not too sure about the last few paragraphs ... I don't know why, just doesn't feel like it works. **What do you think, is it okay?** Apollina compares Achilles to a lion, there was going to be a whole backstory about a lion called Chaos but then I decided to cut it out because ... well it was unneccessary and umm crap. Lol. **Do you think this drafted version of the lion story works?** Oh and most importantly Helen! We finally get to properly meet the famous Helen and we will be seeing more of her as the story goes on. _


	4. Chapter 4

**Cannibals, Dead Lovers and Loving Brothers**

Hector looked up from what had to be the 100th battle strategy he had planned this night, his wife and Apollina were asleep on the bed and Astynyax had been sent away with one of the nurses so that she could sleep undisturbed.

There was a knock on the door, Apollina jerked but stayed asleep, Hector jogged towards the entrance before the knocking could start up again. Paris stood there, wrapped up in a thick cloak, his face a little apprehensive. "Brother, I hope I have not awoken you?"

"No, I was awake." He couldn't sleep, every time he closed his eyes …

"I-" Paris paused and searched Hector's face then continued, "I wanted to ask you something - on behalf of Helen and I."

Hector frowned, the worst possible scenarios running through his head. They'd discovered that they don't really like each other after all and could Hector please return her to Menalaus and tell him that they're awfully sorry? "What is it?" he asked a little sharply.

Paris looked ready to balk, his mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, "I - well - I was wondering if Apollina could stay with Helen tonight - in our room?" Hector fell silent with surprise. There was nothing wrong with the statement of course, Paris was her brother, just as Hector was, all three born to the same mother. "Helen really loves her, says she reminds her of her daughter … Hermione." A look of shame and guilt flitted across Paris' handsome features. "She cried for hours when Apollina got hurt…" he continued desperately, "maybe if she spends some time with us she'll … come to like us?"

The brothers avoided each others gazes, Hector cleared his throat and stared at the spiral patterns sewn on with gold thread on Paris' cloak, Paris frowned and looked to the floor. It was no secret that Apollina didn't like Paris and no amount of talking to had done anything to change it.

He knew Helen had taken a liking to Apollina as well, a liking that didn't seem to lessen no matter how much his sister ignored her. Helen tried everything to win her over; she was gifted priceless jewellery that she had smuggled in from Sparta and gleaming bolts of fine Greek cloth with detailed embroidery that Helen had handmade herself. Helen gushed over how beautiful Apollina was and chose her company alone from all the other young princesses who flocked around her. But to no avail, every gift was returned untouched, every compliment ignored and every invite snubbed. That was the thing about his sister, she could hate just as fiercely as she loved.

Andromache sat up on the bed and shook her head firmly, Hector could see her but Paris couldn't from his position, there really was no point though, Hector had already decided. "I'm sorry Paris," his younger brother's face fell, but he didn't seem surprised. "She's already asleep and I don't want to risk waking her. The wounds are still tender and she only just dropped off."

"When she is a bit better then?"

"… Maybe …" Paris left with a resolute nod.

It wasn't that he didn't trust his brother, he did, it's just that he wouldn't trust anyone with her when she was in this kind of state. The thought that they might unintentionally fall asleep instead of watching over her would plague him all night. And it really wasn't because Helen was a foreigner they hardly knew and Paris had only re-entered their lives seven years ago.

No, it was simply because they weren't him.

He was the one that made everything alright. Not his father, not his mother, not his wife. Him. Just him.

~X~

The pain had become a dull blur, like feeling the reverberating thrum of a loud bell in your ears and not liking it even though it didn't really hurt. Just felt like it did. Whatever the Healer had gotten down her throat was making her feel kind of … smoky. As if she wasn't really here but was here enough for her to be considered solid. She kept drifting in and out of sleep but wasn't sure if that was true or if it was all in her head, then everything went black. Pitch black. The kind of black you see in nightmares, and out of that horrible black came eyes, like cats' eyes, though these were large and fearless. The kind that would take a swipe at you fearlessly if you tried to kick them.

Lion's eyes.

She knew what would happen next, knew it without a doubt, she was right in front of it, it would leap out, all claws and sharp teeth and that would be the end of her, so she was rather surprised when instead of a lion came a man. Logically she should have felt relieved but instead her fear kicked up a few more notches and she ran, feeling his panting breath and swift feet right behind her.

The man was definitely worse then a lion, she didn't know what he wanted but knew enough to know she had to get away from him, he kept reaching for her and she seemed unable to get a good distance between them both, and then his fingers wrapped around her upper arm and dug in. With a gasp that in her nightmares had been a blood curdling scream she sat up and found her vision clear and focused, though the pain was beginning to ebb its way back in. Shaken from her dream she looked down and saw Hector and Andromache asleep on either side of her, carefully distanced from her bruises, and neither the man nor a lion in sight, she sighed in relief and laid back down, throwing one arm over the both of them, ignoring the sting as her wounds stretched and quickly fell back into a deep dreamless slumber.

Hector's eyes opened, she had been mumbling the word 'lion' in her sleep. Disconcerted, he remained awake till morning.

~X~

He needn't have worried about what to say to Paris or how to put him off, the sacrifice had been planned for when she was healthy enough to attend and a little more the a week later she did, not with his permission of course. He had felt that a mere ten days was not enough time for her to recover from her wounds but she had felt otherwise and threatened to kill herself - and him, if she was not allowed to leave the room. When he walked in on her hand standing he felt that perhaps she was well enough after all.

The bruises still looked dramatically livid but she said it barely hurt now and a few had already faded away, he had overheard her telling their chortling father that it was her 'war wounds.' A white bull with gilded horns had already been sacrificed to Apollo, and its meat was now roasting on skewers in the fire pit, drunken men roamed the courtyard while the well bred women stayed safely inside, with some food, wine and revelry of their own, though it wasn't as raucous as the men's. They were holding their feast in his mother's personal garden and attached chambers.

The room was richly decorated, the walls depicting a rural scene with a gilt sun with peridot and ruby rays shining down on a blue topaz river that ran through an emerald field dotted with gilt trees weighed down by garnet apples while opal sheep grazed underneath their boughs.

Some women lay inside to get away from the heat, slaves fanning them with peacock feathers, but most were outside in the garden. The garden air smelled overpoweringly of citrus, his mother loved the odour and had had the garden overrun with lemon, orange and lime trees. The women laid on couches underneath their shades listening to the elderly minstrel singing a sad love dirge about Orpheus and Eurydice, Apollina was on one well stuffed couch with her head on Andromache's lap and her feet on one of the female slave's. Paris stood in front of them and Hector hurried over to defuse the situation that would most definitely arise.

"-tonight you would sleep in our room, with Helen?" asked his brother. Helen, he could see, was on a couch on the very outskirts of the party surrounded by her own followers and was listening intently.

Andromache tensed as did many of the women who could hear the conversation, including his mother, Apollina merely asked a slave girl to bring her more grapes - the green ones. Helen hurried over to her lover's side delicately clad in gorgeous cream with a matching piece of cloth covering her spun gold hair. "We've got everything ready, a spare covering, more pillows then you'll ever need, your salves and everything … and we could have so much fun, you remind me so much-"

"Well then if you had stayed with your daughter then you would not need me," remarked the young Princess with a forced nonchalance. Helen gasped in shock and began to cry.

"Hold your tongue Apollina!" bristled Paris, "I am your brother, she is your sister-in-law, we love you and in return we both deserve the same amount of respect and love-"

Apollina shot to her feet knocking over the golden plate of food that Andromache had been holding, fury flashed in her grey eyes making them spark and flash. Hector knew he should intervene and knew it even more after what followed. "I have enough brothers and enough sister-in-laws and have no need for another. You say you are my brother but what proof do you have?" Hecuba and many of the other women lounging about now began to chide Apollina and cluck disapprovingly. Their anger had always been solely focused on Helen but Apollina had included Paris too, something that not everyone agreed with. "And you say you love me? Well those that love me do not tend to bring home the wife of a King who wants to burn down my home with me still in it!"

And that was that.

~X~

"Remember that they have been using the forests, possibly all winter, they may know it well by now."

"I don't think a Greek would know our lands better then us," huffed a thin old man with wiry grey hair, many of the other Kings nodded their agreement, Hector barely held back an eye roll. It was this arrogance that might end up costing them the war.

"They have had all winter," Hector repeated, "and I'm not willing to take the chance that they have not bothered." He turned to look beseechingly at his seated father for approval, if Priam backed him up then the other Kings would all follow suit. "Father?"

The old King looked deep into his eyes and then turned to the priests of Apollo, "what is the god's say on the matter?" Hector sighed and sat back down. He had lost.

"Yesterday, at dawn," the priest began to drawl, "I saw a great eagle-" The double doors flew open with a bang and a distraught Apollina came running in and threw herself into his arms.

Aghast he ignored the men's disgruntled murmurs and pulled her head up searching her for injuries, "what happened? What did you break? Can you see clearly? How many fingers am I holding up?" he held up three. Perhaps he was still a little on edge since she was injured.

"He was going to eat me!" she screamed in such a high pitch that a few of the men around him winced.

"What?" That was not quite the answer he expected. "Who?"

"Achilles!" And now her eyes began to tear up.

"Hector," boomed his father disapprovingly, he nodded in response, made his excuses and pulled her out of the room into a deserted hallway.

"Why would he want to eat you?"

She floundered around looking for an answer and then settled on a vehement, "because he's a cannibal!"

"Wh-"

She cut him off with a thwack on his arm, "the man was going to eat me and you just stand there questioning me, what kind of bloody-"

"Language," he warned.

She glared at him, "I came this close to getting eaten so I think I have the right to say whatever I want." She searched around for a good swear word but settled on "dung!" when she saw the look on his face.

He ignored her antics, "who told you that he wants to eat you?" Probably Trolius, that boy had a thing for telling her tall tales about flesh eating something or others. After the debacle with the carnivorous horses she had refused to even go near one for months, which meant that someone had had to carry her to and fro everywhere. When he found that idiot he was going to give him a good kick up the arse.

"Althaea told me that Polyxena told her that King Rhesus' man servant told her brother that-"

"He is a cannibal?" Hector guessed.

"Yes! He's a cannibal and he drinks human _blood_, that's why he never gets hurt, he's got a pact with _Hades _see."

~X~

By the next week not only was Achilles a cannibal with a preference for human blood - the younger the better apparently - and a deal with Hades. But he was also a demigod whose only weakness was his heel, he also skinned people alive and used the peels as a bed covering and coupled so fiercely that his lovers nearly always died. And they were always _lovers_. Plural.

* * *

AN: Hope you guys liked it, I think I'm happy with this chapter, especially the last bit. Oh and for all you people who are unaware of the mythology (shame on you! Lol):

* Hecuba had a vision while pregnant with Paris, she dreamed that Troy will burn because of this baby so Paris was abandoned at birth on a mountain, I think Mt Ida. He was rescued by a shepherd though and grew up only to go home again and be welcomed back. Hence the reason why Apollina is so reluctant to love him, she has only known him to be her brother for a little while.

* Fun fact, there were myths about Achilles skinning his victims and sleeping on the peels and that he uh ... was so ... umm fierce? that his lovers (men as well) were severly bruised or died.


	5. Belonging To Apollo

**Belonging To Apollo**

Blood slicked his hands in a thick layer as he moved swiftly through the Trojans slicing them down as he went, he was momentarily impeded when his spear went through a dying man's ribs and he had to stop to yank the damn thing out, the man began to spasm and cry then finally slumped over. He had lost his other two in the fray and this was his last one till he could either find another whole spear or find one of his Myrmidons and get them to fetch him his spares. He had heard from a passing Menalaus that Hector was fighting near the gates and that was where he was heading.

A bushy bearded man in his early fifties with loose armour and a chinked sword rushed him from behind, he could hear the idiot screaming as he came. He swung around swiftly and lopped off the man's head with one clean strike, blood spouted out from the man's severed neck and coated Achilles' breast plate. The body slumped to the floor with the sword still grasped in its hands, a pool of wetness seeping from it.

A few more pushes and he was at the gate itself, many Achaeans had managed to force themselves near so he didn't have to worry about being trapped here alone, he could see Odysseus over there fighting a brawny looking fellow and there was Ajax swinging his club in a wide arc catching quite a few Trojans and sending them arcing through the air . He couldn't see Eudorus but spotted Diomedes chasing down a scrawny young lad who screamed as he ran. Achilles spared a quick look upwards and recognized King Priam, Helen, the young lad he had seen with her, a tall skinny brunette and a few other richly decorated people but no black haired crow with eyes so large they seemed crowded in her little face. A spear whizzed towards him, he ducked it and sent his own volleying back to the impudent Trojan who had thrown it.

He didn't miss.

He heard a few gasps and was not all that surprised to see a sea of young girls staring at him from the walls, he quickly searched their midst for a head of black hair and eyes of grey but didn't see her among them either.

"Achilles," called a steady voice from behind. Achilles had to give the man credit, he could have struck him down while he was distracted but the Prince had honour, but then again he wouldn't win glory by striking down the great Achilles from behind like a coward. If he had he would have been mocked for all eternity.

Now that they had a clear view the two soldiers studied the other with avid interest, taking stock of each others features like one would study a horse you wanted to purchase. Achilles was both taller and wider in the chest, his legs were long, his body, lean, he looked quick on his feet. His shorter foe had muscles that would make him steady on his feet but was light enough to do some footwork of his own, his body was riddled with scars of experience and he held his sword with an ease of a veteran, eyes that had seen many a war was looking hither and thither for opportunities.

With a grin he stalked towards the older Prince and they both circled each other, the men nearest to them stopped to watch the fight, then suddenly Hector blanched. Achilles knew what the man had seen, it had been peaking out for most of the battle and Achilles had thought it would be beyond recognisable by now but apparently not. It had been rather uncharacteristic of him to not only collect the brown shawl she had ripped off her head and released to the winds but also wear the thing under his armour, something a lovesick lad Patrolocus' age would do rather then a man of his years, but he hadn't been able to help himself.

"You stay away from her," the Prince warned, bristling with fury, teeth clenched tightly.

"I'm not exactly near her," Achilles replied amusedly, that only served to enrage Hector even more. With a roar Hector lunged at him, heavy Trojan sword swinging in an upwards arc that would have cleaved through his chin had he not stepped backwards just in time, Achilles swung his shield down hard forcing the man to bring his sword up in order to avoid getting a hit to the head. It may have been protected by a helmet but shields were heavy and head wounds were a dangerous thing.

The clang of shield on sword reverberated through them both and without wasting another moment Achilles used his other hand to thrust his sword at the man's unprotected side, Hector pulled his own shield up at the last second but the force of the swing made him stagger to the side and nearly stumble. Achilles took advantage of that and positioned his sword, aiming to plunge it in the Prince's throat, but then he heard a loud gasp above him. He looked up and saw the bevy of girls looking down at the scene with horror in their eyes.

Was she there too?

He returned his attention to the Prince just in time to see him lunging at him with a poised sword, Achilles reflected the attack with his shield and used the man's momentum to push him into the crowd of Trojan's that had restarted the fight. With another long look at the girls he disappeared into the fray of soldiers opposite the one Hector had been forced into.

Things were becoming a little too complicated for his liking.

~X~

His arm stung bitterly from where it had been patched together and to make matters worse his son had refused to come near him due to the foul smelling paste he had been dipped in to ward away infections. To top things off one of his half brothers was missing. He had gone into battle with everyone else, Paris had spoken to him just before it had started and Ilione had seen him mere moments into it, throwing spears at Odysseus' men, he was a young lad, just nineteen with barely a beard on his face, his mother's pride an joy, her only child. He had already been down into the Blood Room, where all the common soldiers were brought in, to see if someone had placed him there by mistake but with the day dying on them things didn't look good. Pretty soon the men would run out of wounded to carry in and then they would be trawling in the dead on donkey carts piled high.

God he was sick of this.

Loud giggling stopped him in his tracks, so rare in these times that he took a moment to savour it, he peeped through the doorway to see a gaggle of girls sitting around whispering to one another. Apollina as usual was in the midst of things, surrounded by sisters, half sisters, step sisters, cousins, friends, acquaintances and other young relatives. He noted with a smile that a few young men were also hovering around the group, his smile grew when he noticed that Coroebus, a nephew of one of their allies was there as well. The boy had been hovering around Cassandra for the better part of a month, though she had paid no heed to him, and Hector made a mental note to speak to his father and the lad's uncle about a possible marriage. Maybe marriage would do her some good.

Even as he approached them the giggling grew in pitch but Apollina didn't partake in it, instead she stiffened then got up promptly her face tight and lips thin, she made to flounce off in another direction but then stormed his way when she spotted him. The nine year old son of another ally watched her avidly. He would have to speak to the boy, he had apparently been spying on the maids while they were bathing.

She neared him then gagged, "you smell like sour milk."

"I think I know that, it is, after all, on me." She mimed retching but broke into affronted laughter when he swiped some of the paste onto her arm. "What was all that about?"

"What? Back there?"

He nodded and wiped the paste off her with his fingers.

"Oh Polyxena was just teasing Cassandra about her admirer, you know-" he nodded again to tell her that he was aware of that, "and Creusa told us that both of King Merops' sons were watching Polyxena at the feast we held to thank Apollo, but Polyxena said she doesn't like either of them - said they're too plain."

"Who does she like then?" If Paris was the beauty of all the Princes then Polyxena was his female counterpart, with a cascade of wavy brown hair, sparkling brown eyes and a mischievous twist to her perfect little lips she was the very image of a young Hecuba and had a lot of leeway because of that from their father. She, he insisted, would marry a King and no other.

"I - mmm," she said noncommittally. Hector waited, "she-well not just her, nearly all of them really -" she looked at him and frowned, "they saw him up close today, when he was up near the gates." He knew immediately who she was speaking of. "And they reckon - reckon he's godlike."

Hector looked at her in alarm, "they do?" she nodded. "And what do you think?" Apollina wouldn't meet his eyes for a while instead keeping them fixed on the colourful birds of paradise that had been a present from Hecuba's father along time ago along with their huge gilded cages, then she shivered.

That was answer enough.

~X~

"Achilles," Menalaus sounded both surprised and a little apprehensive, "I didn't send for you"No you didn't," he paced up to a high backed chair and slumped into it.

"Did you want something?"

"Yes," Menalaus' serving woman, a busty red head he had bought along from Sparta, set out a silver plate in front of him while others laid the table with wine, meat and other delicacies. He fingered a plump grape and then popped one into his mouth, it burst filling him with sweetness.

Menalaus eyed the slave girl's chest, looked expectantly at him for a while then lost patience. "Well?"

Achilles ignored him and motioned for the pretty redhead to fill his goblet with wine and took his time swilling it around and tasting it too. It was a little strong and had a sour edge to it so he abandoned the pretence and pushed the cup back onto the table. "I need a name. Girl. Black hair. Grey eyes. Trojan. I presume that she may be a Princess, perhaps either the - wife, or a sister of Hector." He smiled at the redhead and she shot his a sultry look from under her dusky lashes, her breasts pushed outwards for his inspection.

Menalaus nodded slowly, "grey eyes? Aye, you'll be talking about Hector's sister I think, his wife is a skinny looking thing, brown hair, sharp nose. Name … I think - Apollina? Aye Apollina. She came with the Prince to Sparta a few times when she was real young."

Apollina …'belonging to Apollo.' "What is she like?"

Menalaus looked confused, he hadn't really paid the young Princess much heed, she had been a babe when she came to Sparta and had only been a little older when he came to Troy, couldn't have been any more then ten years old. "I don't know, spoilt little thing, that's why they had to bring her along, apparently kicked up a fuss at being left at home. Why do you-"

Achilles got up and left.

~X~

"I don't agree with this," the old King stared him down till he lowered his eyes respectively. "Please father - I don't want a repeat of last time."

"It will not be a repeat of last time. This time they'll all be going - and with armed guards. This time we'll be ready for them."

"Father please, let her stay-"

"Hector look around you!" Priam shouted stiffly, dislodging his white curls from their place, "we are running out of food! This war shows no sign of abating and we weren't even ready for it in the first place!" They both looked at the occupants of the hall, Priam looked at his wives, once they had been considered the most fortunate women in all of Ilium, they had strutted like peacocks pulling along strings of sons behind them, now they drooped in misery and spent their time sewing shawls to bury their children in. Hector looked at his own wife, she had been slim before but now she looked as if her very skin fitted her too tightly. She tore a large piece off her small loaf and gave it to his son and then took another gulp of wine. "When friends offer us help we must not shun them."

Hector remained silent.

"Polydorus is safe is he not? Do you not want that for her as well?" Hector sighed and nodded reluctantly, "I think we would all sleep better knowing that the young ones were somewhere safe, eating well and living without fear, free from duty and princes … and love." Hector sighed again, Priam placed a hand on his shoulder, "if you love her so much then this shouldn't be so hard."

* * *

AN: Guys what do you think of Priam and the relationship between him and Hector? I hope I havn't portrayed him in a bad light because that wasn't my intention, if you think it his characterisation hasn't come out quite right please drop me a line and tell me.

Much appreciated

X MBQ X


	6. To Be A Hero

**To Be A Hero**

The boat had already left the shore, the escape had been faultless, they had gone through the secret underground tunnel that opened up into the far side of Mt Ida and from there they had boarded a waiting ship to Thrace. Their guards had already left but King Polymestor's men were all heavily armed so none of them were worried.

Apart from Cassandra of course, except Cassandra was always worried, even now she kept trying to throw herself overboard so one of the men had tied her by her leg to the mast. Instead of untying it she just pulled at the rope pityingly and cried. She had been really young when Cassandra had become like this, Hector had told her she used to be quite normal before and extremely pretty, more so then Polyxena even, which is saying something. No one knew why Cassandra was like this though, her parents had tried everything to cure her, had prayed to every deity and made lavish offerings in every temple they had come across, but to no avail. The people said that Apollo was punishing her for spurning his attention which in itself proved how beautiful she had once been.

"By Zeus!" one of her half brothers blasphemed earning a thump from his elder sister. He had demanded to be allowed to stay behind and fight like his older brothers but Hector had clipped him round the ear and marched him to the tunnel. "The day when ten year olds fight for Troy," Hector had said, "is a sad day indeed."

The boat swung around and began to row back towards Troy, Neleus, the oldest male present at thirteen stepped forward, "what are you doing? Why are we heading back for Troy?" The men ignored him. "Have we forgotten something?" he asked worriedly but no one answered him. "What in Hades' name is going on?" No one thumped him for blaspheming, instead the thread of panic in his voice set everyone else off.

Girls burst into tears, little ones wailed for their mothers, Cassandra, who didn't like loud noises began to scream louder then them all and flopped around the floor like a fish out of water. They were all getting shoved around as the more panicked among them began to run pell-mell about the thin ship, the men finally reacted and tried to round them up. Some of the boys tried to fight them off then a small body hit the floor, the screams were loud enough to reach Olympus itself now. A splash or two was heard but went unnoticed in the panic.

Apollina had stayed quiet due to shock until she saw that although the men were taking them back to Troy they weren't taking them to where they had started at. Instead they were going the other way.

Towards the beach where the Greeks were shored.

She joined in on both the screaming and the running around like a headless chicken and no one, not even Cassandra, was louder then her.

~X~

"Cousin you have to come!" Patrolocus burst into his tent clutching his side and breathing heavily.

Achilles looked up worriedly but carried on sharpening his sword when he saw that the boy wasn't injured, "why?"

"Agamemnon - he's going to kill children! Cousin please we must hurry."

"Why?"

Patrolocus looked lost for words, "Why?"

"Yes, why?"

"Because," he spluttered, "they're children." Surely that was answer enough?

"And?" Achilles asked patiently.

"But-"

"This is a war, Patrolocus," Achilles said firmly, "people die. Children die." Happy with his sword he set it down and picked up his spear. "Until you learn that you will never make a good soldier."

Patrolocus stared at him in stunned silence for a while, "maybe I would rather never become a soldier then learn that," with an angry swipe he pushed Achilles' sword off the stool he had placed it on. Achilles ignored him and carried on sharpening the spear. "Fine. I'll go tell Odysseus, maybe he'll be the man you can't be bothered to be."

~X~

"Achilles … my friend … I have something for you," boomed King Agamemnon with a wide self satisfied smirk.

"I'm not interested in your loot," Achilles muttered sourly. He had been called to Agamemnon's tent, told to respond immediately. He had thought of defying the orders but the last time he had done so he had been sent on a mission with barmy old Nestor. It wasn't an experience he wished to repeat.

"No you're not are you … what happened to your woman?"

Achilles shrugged, "gave her away along time ago."

"Oh? And the brunette?"

She had been fun for a while, "hmm," he said noncommittally.

Agamemnon's smile widened, "and the red head my brother lent you?" She had been such a disappointment, "Eudorus has her, I think."

"Got bored did you?"

Achilles didn't answer.

"Yes," Agamemnon laughed. "You do get bored ever so easily. So I - in my kindness - took it upon myself to relieve you of this boredom - bring her in!"

Someone was being dragged into the tent, a loud crying someone by the sounds of it. A female someone. Two of Agamemnon's men entered with - Apollina … His eyes widened with amazement. There she was, face wet with tears, sobbing and hiccupping as she looked frantically around the room for a savior. She looked at Agamemnon, at Odysseus, at some of the other Kings and finally at him, screamed even louder and tried to run out the room. The men restrained her easily.

"She was in the boat, a gift from King Polymestor of Thrace. I was going to send her back as well but Odysseus informed me of your little … infatuation … so, a gift, from me to you." Achilles strode over to her and held his hand out, she shrunk away from him into one of the soldier's chests. "I hope you are most pleased, and perhaps now-" Achilles yanked her away from the soldier and pulled her bodily out of the tent, screaming as she went. "Achilles? Achilles?" Agamemnon called after him. "Ungrateful bastard," Agamemnon muttered bitterly.

~X~

He hauled her into his tent and blocked the exit with his body when she tried to run out again. She backed away from him quickly, her eyes bloodshot and puffy, her nose was runny and her lip wobbled adorably, he reached out to feel that wobble but with a scream she dropped to her knees.

"Please! Please don't eat me!"

Being a rather famous warlord Achilles had grown accustomed to having stories told about him, one of the more popular ones being that he was a demigod. There was even a rather detailed one the Etruscans had invented … something about his heel for some reason. Generally the tales amused him, they certainly entertained his men, but he had a feeling this one wouldn't be so pleasant.

"Why would I want to eat you?" he murmured in a soothing voice as he took a step closer. She scooted backwards.

Her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water and a sob erupted out of her, she kept her eyes on him as if waiting for him to lunge at her and rip her to pieces. "My brother," she croaked, "he's Hector …" he nodded to show that he knew even as relief coursed through him. She wasn't the man's wife. "He'll give you anything you want for my safe return."

"Such as?"

"Anything."

"Gold?"

"Yes!" Some strength returned to her failing voice, "Loads!"

"Jewels?"

"Of course, we have tons of jewels."

"Women?"

She paused, "you mean like slaves?"

"No." He sat down on one of the backless chairs near the entrance. "I mean that I pick out one woman - out of anyone - that I want … and your brother gives her to me."

"To - to marry?" she asked. That would be a little difficult, she didn't know anybody who deserved the fate of being married to this brute.

"Hmm … I suppose it'll be a little like marriage. Do you agree to those terms?"

She looked at the ground hesitantly then looked up at him, at the way that he towered over her even while sitting on a chair, at the way he stared at her unblinkingly, that seemed to have decided it for her. She nodded.

"Even … Helen?" he teased. She tensed, well there was one woman who deserved being married to this monster after all.

She nodded.

Achilles fell silent, he stared at her intently then nodded. "Fine … I've picked a woman." He stood up and took a step towards her. She shuffled back a little more.

"Who?" her voice cracked in the middle but the tears had dwindled down with the realisation that she was going home.

"You."

"Wh-what?" she spluttered, "but-"

"Exactly. We're at a bit of an impasse it seems," he said casually. She gaped at him too shocked to cry, though he knew that would come soon. "And just to be clear, I'm not planning on eating you … not in that context anyway."

He waited for her reaction, maybe she'd blush prettily or slap him for his cheek but instead she croaked out from between lips that, to him at least, seemed the perfect colour, shape and size for seduction, and asked, "in what context then?"

~X~

He greeted his friend with an "I'm going to burn in Tartarus."

Odysseus grinned and moved over so he could sit down on the wooden bench. "You can always send her back-"

"No," he said firmly, "I'm looking forward to it actually."

"Her?"

Achilles half smiled, "Well … I meant Tartarus. Meet some interesting people … see some interesting things." Odysseus broke out in chuckles. "I think it'll be worth it … and thank you - for her."

Odysseus nodded and clapped Achilles on the back, "What're friends for … and this was maybe you'll keep an eye on me during the battle. My wife will kill me if I die."

~X~

The guards he had placed hadn't moved so he gathered that there hadn't been any escape attempts. She was on the bed, asleep, with her head where his feet would normally be and had, for some reason, pushed the blanket to the floor. Her face was still shiny with tears and every now and then her breath would hitch and another tear would leak out. He picked up the blanket and shook it to shake off the sand, when night came they would need it, especially a pampered little Princess like her, he sincerely doubted whether she would be able to stand the nippy sea air. He placed the blanket on the other side of the bed, where her feet now was, and sat down feeling it sag slightly beneath him making her hip jut into his back. He lent backwards until the feel of it was a sharp press that made her scrunch her face and shift away from him.

He bent down to untie his shoes, unlacing the leather straps and flinging them to one side for the slave girl to find later and then his hands went to his wraparound, he had gotten the knot that held the whole thing together almost completely undone before he realised that she was fully dressed. Achilles remembered the look of fear in her eyes when he had reached for her. The way she had fallen to her knees and shuffled away from him when he had stepped closer … Perhaps it would be best if he took things slower … introduce her gently into how her life would be from now. She shifted closer to his heat, the peplos moved a little revealing more of her collarbone - the knot came undone and the sea blue wraparound drifted to the floor.

~X~

Apollina woke to the familiar sound of Trojan waves unfurling on Trojan shores and to the feel of strong arms and an even stronger embrace. And in that moment that comes just before waking up, she really thought she was back in Troy - she smiled. Her sister-in-law would have been up for hours by now, busy with whatever running a household entails, boring duties like preparing the menu and calculating the household expenses. Duties she was meant to be learning.

She had almost finished weaving her quilt, the one she would take with her when she married and use on her wedding night. Hecuba and her father's other wives had chosen Persephone and Hades as her theme, the only god who was faithful to his wife, the women had muttered. So she would have to get up soon and start working on it, she had to re-do Persephone because her mother said she's made the goddess look too fat.

If she reached out a little she would feel Astynyax, since he wasn't on top of her he must be crawling all over Hector, shoving his podgy little fingers and toes into their mouths, ears or noses. You had to be real careful now, he was teething.

Then that moment passed and she began to notice the differences. The sound of the waves crashing and the sea birds squawking was too loud, not the gentle hum she would hear from the Palace. The bed she was on was too hard and she couldn't feel the bear skin her brother had brought home from a successful hunt underneath her. And she couldn't hear Astynyax' gurgling or her brother's deep booming snores that always made Astynyax fall about with laughter and bite his mouth.

Even the one thing she could feel felt all wrong. Hector was never pressed this tightly against her, nor was he this big.

She pulled back a little so she could look down at the man who had burrowed his head into the crook of her neck and saw only a head of blond hair and a golden back. Still groggy enough to only be curious at this point she shifted a little more and the man that was practically ingrained on her moaned and shifted as well. That's when she felt it, the press of something firm and hot and heavy on her thigh. Something Andromache had warned her about as soon as she had started bleeding.

Something that should not be anywhere near her unless she was married and it was her husband's.

~X~

Startled out of a rather nice dream by the most horrible sound he had ever heard in all his life he fell out of the pallet onto the sandy floor with a thump and a loud yelp of surprise. Adding insult to injury Odysseus, Eudorus and two of his Myrmidons came running at his own scream with their swords in hand.

Odysseus being Odysseus immediately started laughing, not that anyone could hear him over the shrill scream the Princess was emitting, Eudorus shot a chortling Odysseus a glare and helped him off the floor. To top matters off he had a prominent erection on display.

"So the rumours are true," shouted the King of Ithaca in order to be heard over the din.

Achilles shot him a bemused look and started patting sand off his rear. "What rumours?" he shouted back.

"The gods - they really don't give anyone everything, not even their favourites."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Sure they gave you talent on the battlefield, and you can run faster than a war horse -" Achilles scoffed, "- and they gave you looks and luck to match - not to mention wonderful hair … but then they cursed you where it matters …" Achilles followed his gaze to his crotch. "Tis a pity … don't worry though, I'll keep it a secret." Achilles joined in on the laughter even though it was at his own expense.

~X~

Patrolocus' head popped into the tent a little after Odysseus and the other men had left, "cousin …" His cousin was lying on the pallet naked, which wasn't unusual, there was also a woman next to him, and this too was normal. She wasn't the red head he had walked in on last time but that too was like him. However, unlike usual she was fully clothed and crying with her hands covering her face.

"Cousin?" he walked warily into the tent, his eyes fixed on the girl who ignored his presence and carried on. Achilles stirred and a sliver of blue peered from between his lids at him. Slowly, gracefully, he sat up on the bed and arched his back until it popped. "I'm here for my training." Patrolocus' gaze slid back to the woman on the bed, Achilles turned with him and looked at her.

He sighed and rubbed at the tense muscles in his neck. "Patrolocus, pass it to me will you," he said pointing at the black wraparound his slave woman had put out for him while they had slept. Patrolocus quickly stepped over to the table and threw the cloth to him, Achilles got off the bed with another sigh and knotted the plain but fine black fabric around his waist. "You can look now," Patrolocus assumed that he was addressing the woman but she didn't respond or remove her hands from her face. Achilles huffed and marched over to her, alarmed Patrolocus took a step forward but all his cousin did was pull one of her hands forcibly till it touched the cloth he had wrapped himself in. she stopped shrieking and tentatively peeped over the one hand that obscured her face. "There see, I'm descent … peace at last." The girl blinked up at him warily, wrapped her arms around her knees and began to cry silently.

"-Locus … Patrolocus!" Patrolocus looked away from the shaking girl to see Achilles frowning at him. "I called you four times."

"Sorry cousin … I …"

Achilles frown deepened. "Training. Lets go."

~X~

Achilles scowled, Patrolocus was hardly focusing, if this had been a real fight with any opponent other then him Patrolocus would have died as soon as he had picked up his sword. He wasn't blocking with his shield at all, Achilles had managed to knock his sword out of his hand six times and every opening he had given the boy to attempt to give him a kill move had been overlooked. Frustrated he threw his wooden sword into the sand, "what?" he demanded angrily.

Patrolocus glared back at him, his eyes, a warmer shade of the exact blue, were accusing. "Who is she?"

Achilles' answer was mulish, "a girl."

"Why was she crying?"

"Because she was ever so happy."

Patrolocus clenched his jaw and tried to keep calm. "Did - did you rape her?" he had meant to shout it, meant to make it sound both angry and disappointed but it came out as a pleading whisper.

Achilles locked gazes with him, unblinking, dangerously calm, Patrolocus tried to stare him down but blinked and looked away first. "And what if I did?"

"It's wrong!" His voice shook and colour rushed to his face, flushing his cheeks and neck red.

Achilles shook his head and chuckled, "oh Patrolocus … you have so much to learn."

Angered more by his amused tone then anything Patrolocus gritted his teeth, "what have I got to learn?" he spat.

Achilles smiled wide but it didn't reach his eyes, "that soldiers aren't heroes."

Patrolocus threw down his own sword and left without looking back.

* * *

AN: Who already knew about Polymestor and Polydorus? Come on don't be humble, put your hand up and show off *puts both hands up and waves frantically* but then again I did write it so I guess I can't boast.

And we finally meet Patrolocus, we will be seeing more of him so don 't worry. And do you like what I did with Cassandra?


	7. Playing Theseus

AN: Sorry for the huge delay, been having internet troubles that might or might not be sorted - don't ask. Well I'll leave you guys to it and talk to you below - oh! Don't forget to tell me how much you loved it, or even that you didn't. Reviews are like calorie free snacks to me. All the yummy goodness and the full feeling without any of the guilt.

* * *

**Playing Theseus**

Achilles had removed the guards from the entrance but the girl was still inside, pacing up and down frantically, too scared to go anywhere near the door, and as soon as she heard him coming she ran to the other side of the tent, crouched down and made herself real small. Wrapping her arms around herself in a tight embrace that no one here would give her.

"It's alright," he whispered softly, "I won't hurt you."

The girl stayed taut, until she realised that he was keeping his distance, and then peered up at him curiously from under her knotty hair. She wasn't beautiful, and he knew a little about beauty. His grandmother had once described how Achilles' mother had looked on her wedding day. How everyone had envied young Peleus as he stood before the priest with his flaxen haired goddess beside him, with her shimmering blue eyes and feet that seemed too dainty to be allowed to touch the ground. He had never seen Helen but descriptions of her seemed to run along those lines as well. There had even been a girl back home in Creusa who all the lads had been crazy over. She had been tall and lithe with honey blonde hair and the greenest eyes he had ever seen, like the bottom of a mossy well. Boys used to leave all sorts of messages on her wall - it used to drive her father crazy - but her and her slender neck had only eyes for Achilles. Of course, Achilles got bored awful quick and hadn't been at all interested in marriage, and since she was just a merchant's daughter, no one had been able to force him to do so, not even after everyone found out about them. He had last heard that her family had married her off to someone in Crete.

Probably an elderly widower who didn't even know she wasn't a virgin, or was paid not to care.

This girl was all knees and elbows and far too foreign for his liking. Her skin was a crispy brown and her hair was thick, curly, and black. Out of her dark foreign face her eyes stood out like diamonds, a livid grey colour, the only interesting thing about her. She was not one of Achilles' preferred women, he liked blondes mostly, red heads were a favourite but they were rare, and all of them had to be busty and curvy, with long legs, strong thighs and loud voices.

"Are you alright?" he asked softly, afraid that she would bolt if he raised his voice.

He still had quite a bit of time; Achilles had joined the other warlords in Agamemnon's tent to discuss a situation that had arisen in a nearby village. Nestor's sons had been sent to sack the place a little over a month ago and still hadn't returned, the old man was insisting that someone be sent to check up on them and was insisting that that someone be Achilles. But Agamemnon had refused time and time again to spare his best soldier, not that Nestor could be refused for long, not if Agamemnon didn't want the old King to take his ninety ships and his sons back home to Pylos.

Her huge grey eyes watered, she scrubbed at them with the edge of her filthy tunic, her voice, when she spoke, was hoarse and timid. "No," her sniffles started up again.

All the girls from the ship had been sent back, he had made sure of it.

"Are you from Troy? From King Polymestor's ship?"

"Yes I - he betrayed us! Why would-" she began crying again, "we sent my brother to him. We sent him thinking he'll be _safe _there!" She looked up at him, her big silver eyes imploring, bordering on hysterical. "Is he alright? Do you know? And the others? Are they safe?"

"I don't know about your brother, but the others … yes they are safe, they've been returned to Troy." Her face fell at that, at the thought of being the only one who had been singled out to stay.

"Don't worry-"

"Apollina," she inserted with a shaky smile that cracked in the middle.

"Apollina," he repeated with a rickety smile of his own. "I'll - I'll get you out of here."

~X~

This was too risky … his heart was beating so loudly in his chest that he was surprised that it hadn't given him away. He had wanted to wait till Achilles was detained somewhere else, somewhere that would perhaps take a weeks journey by boat, but Achilles had turned down the order to go help Nestor's sons and Ajax had been sent instead. And it wasn't exactly wise to try it during the day or when he was on the battlefield, after all, she'd have to cross it to get back home. So he had decided to wait until nightfall and smuggle her out under the cover of darkness.

He could hear her, sniffling in the dark, and since his tentative calling went unanswered, he gathered that Achilles must be asleep. The tent had been lit with a few candles that shed some light on the room, especially near the bed, and Patrolocus noted with distaste that his cousin had molded himself around her. The girl - Apollina - tilted her head up in order to see him and when Patrolocus saw that she would not be able to remove herself from Achilles' embrace without help - he quailed. He would have ran back to his tent if the sheet that had covered the pair hadn't slipped a little revealing more of Achilles' naked back, the upper swell of his buttocks and his erection, nestling on her covered thigh. The sick feeling that curdled in his stomach displaced his fear and helped him step closer to the bed, all the while keeping an eye on the sleeping man next to her.

He had always had quite a bit of leeway with Achilles, who treated him like a little brother since he was an only child. To Patrolocus he had been the very pinnacle one should aim for. Excelling in athletics, wrestling, discus throwing, running … everything really. He quickly made a name for himself as a soldier before he was even eighteen and became a boy King that no one had any qualms kneeling to after his father's death. Women clamoured for his attention, men fell over themselves for the right to be considered his friend, grey haired dignitaries asked for his opinion, and _Kings _felt that wars wouldn't be won unless he fought for them. Patrolocus wanted nothing more then to grow up and be this man.

Not _this _man. He didn't know this man.

~X~

It had been nerve wracking, Patrolocus had been sure that Achilles would wake up at least three times into it. He had nearly gotten her free when Achilles had moaned and spooned her tighter, and that had taken a while to untangle, especially since she had kept trying to shake him off briskly rather then delicately. Not like he could blame her, it must make her skin crawl to be crushed in her rapists embrace. Held captive on her own beach with her home and family a mere horse ride away.

He stood there peering into the darkness trying to make out shapes, most of the men were thankfully asleep but he knew that the sentries would be roaming about. She shivered in her fine peplos; Patrolocus hadn't thought to bring a cloak.

"Let's go," he whispered.

He had hardly taken a step forward when a bodiless voice called from within the darkness, "who's there?"

He didn't answer. Couldn't answer. Zeus! He just wanted to run back to his tent and forget this whole nightmare!

Something nudged into his side, clasped his elbow and then skittered down his arm until he felt fingers clutch desperately at his tunic.

"Patrolocus … Achilles' cousin," he answered as steadily as he could manage.

"Oh sorry lad." The footsteps receded. He felt for her hand, pried it off his tunic and began to lead her to freedom.

~X~

There was hardly any moon tonight, just a thin curvy slice that shed almost no light but Achilles could hear them blundering forward towards their destination. With both anger and pride, he realised that Patrolocus was leading the girl to the very edge of the camp and had timed it perfectly for when the sentries placed there would change shifts. They stood hidden behind another tent for a while until the sentry nearest to them left to rouse his replacement and then they shot forward, him pulling her along.

He stalked a few feet behind them.

He could see Patrolocus' mouth moving but couldn't hear what was being said but gathered it was a 'get-going-no-need-to-thank-me' speech. She didn't move, just stood there blinking up at him with her large beautiful eyes, eyes that made the moon's light seem even dimmer. Patrolocus prodded her forward. She looked back at him fearfully and took a step backwards, back towards him.

Achilles chuckled silently in amusement. The boy had thought it would be _so _easy but he had forgotten that he was dealing with Royalty. The little Princess had probably never gone anywhere unaccompanied, never even put on a robe without a mob of slaves milling around her, tucking this in and fluffing that out. Like she had been used to all her life she was looking to Patrolocus to do everything for her, if she weren't so scared she would have probably ordered him to carry her to Troy on his back. Not only that, but the girl, Trojan born and bred though she may be, had probably hardly ventured outside those walls - and never at night - she wouldn't know where Troy was if her life depended on it.

Which it did. According to her anyway.

Patrolocus nudged her some more and Apollina, obviously deciding that her chances with whatever was out there was better then what was waiting for her back in his tent, took off. He waited till Patrolocus scarpered and then launched himself after her.

~X~

That night Patrolocus dreamed of the girl back in Phthia, the one who lived somewhere in Crete now. She was thanking him, smiling demurely, their chaperone had turned away to give them a semblance of privacy while still monitoring them closely. Then the scene changed, Eudorus was holding his arms down on a table but he couldn't understand why. A swoosh of metal slicing through air made him look up to see Achilles coming towards him, sword swinging in one hand.

"Thank you again Patrolocus," she whispered with a shy smile. Patrolocus swivelled his head away from Achilles so that he could look at her and beam back.

He didn't even feel the swords come down on his wrist.

~X~

He got up at some time around noon, last nights dream prickling at him, making it just a bit harder to breathe, just a bit harder to put one foot in front of the other. The men had been up for hours by now, some sharpening weapons, some mending armour, some training or working on ships. Some cooking, he could smell the meat cooking on spits; he collected his share and sat down to eat.

"Go give this to Achilles will you, lad" Eudorus asked, holding out a heavily laden plate of food and a wine pouch. "I've got to go make sure those louts don't get stingy with the leather again. He's up near the edge of the camp, looking at the plains." Patrolocus had been hoping to avoid seeing Achilles for a while, maybe even forever, but not seeing him would raise suspicions so with a nervous nod he took the offered plate and pouch and headed off.

His cousin was exactly where Eudorus had said he would be, looking out at the plains. "She escaped."

He jumped but since Achilles wasn't looking at him figured he hadn't noticed. "Who?" Might as well play the part.

"Apollina."

"Oh."

"I'm looking for her body."

Startled Patrolocus walked closer and stood next to Achilles. But not too near, far enough to get a head start if he had to run. "Why would she be dead?" He looked across the plains as well, searching for a small bronzed body baking in the sun.

Achilles scoffed, "do you really think a girl like that could survive a night out there alone? She would have to cross the plains, swim across the river Scamander, and if she didn't drown she would still have to walk all the way to Troy. And that's if she actually knew where the citadel is in the first place. Could be wandering around Mount Ida for all we know. If she did get anywhere close to the walls then their archers would have shot her down without knowing who she was in the dark."

A lump formed in Patrolocus' throat.

Achilles turned away from the plains and headed back to the camp. "Time for your training, go get my arms from my tent … you'll be using them today."

He was so numb that he didn't even rejoice at his promotion, just nodded and walked.

~X~

It was with thoughts of crows glutting on soft pampered Princess meat that Patrolocus entered the tent. Only to see her sitting on the sand, arms and legs bound by a cloth and a gag in her mouth. She saw him, stretched towards him, eyes yearning for help but he stood there rooted to the spot, heart beating erratically.

Turned around slowly to see Achilles standing in the doorway.

"Patrolocus," he announced theatrically as he ducked inside, "our modern day Theseus. Saves the girl, promises her all sorts of things … and then abandons her."

"Cousin I - I-" he stuttered, stepping back to put some distance between them. Wondered who'd come to his aid if he screamed. Certainly not Eudorus.

"I was watching. Made many mistakes, you did. Got the timing spot on, very proud of you I was, but everything else was a huge disappointment. You have to _plan _things like this … there was no need to rush, so you should have slept on it for a few days, worked out the kinks, made sure you had a couple of back up plans just in case. Then you should have made sure you filled her in as well, made sure both you and the Princess were armed. She would probably faint of exhaustion before she even got to Troy so you should have smuggled out a horse as well, and some water. If you had just waited a few days to lull me into a false sense of security you would have been able to point out to her in which direction Troy was. And of course given her a torch to light so that her fellow Trojans would know who was approaching them … But do you know what your biggest, most unbelievable mistake was?" Achilles cocked his head to the side a regarded him with a lazy smile.

Patrolocus was sweating profusely, he shook his head.

"You underestimated me."

"Cousin - please …"

"After your tone to me that day do you really think I didn't have a hunch that you would try something stupid? I'm a soldier Patrolocus," he shouted, "I would have been awake as soon as you blundered into the tent if I hadn't already been paranoid enough to stay awake anyway."

Patrolocus was shaking, the dream he had made his bladder feel weak.

"You not only disobeyed me but you got caught. Take my weapons and armour and meet me outside." With that, he marched outside leaving him alone with the girl. He picked up the things and left as well, didn't dare look at her even once.

~X~

Both Achilles and Patrolocus were very alike in looks, even around the same build though Achilles filled his lanky frame with muscles while Patrolocus was just managing to turn baby fat into something a little harder. Achilles had told him that that he was a sprinter. A soldier that preferred to run down his enemies, and they had to stay slim but strong enough to run laps while wearing heavy armour and carrying weapons.

So his cousin's armour did fit, but it didn't fit perfectly. The helmet was a tad too loose, the armour jostled as he moved and the greaves kept slipping down his leg. The shield was heavy and he couldn't easily reach the spear that was tied on his back. He felt weighed down and knew that he would hardly be able to walk far in this ensemble let alone run.

"What in Hades' name is going on here?" Odysseus asked as he pushed through the crowd that had formed to watch them. "Training is it? So the lads finally moved onto real weapons eh?"

"I'm teaching him a moral actually," replied Achilles with a smile. All he had was the wooden sword they usually practised with. "If Patrolocus' sword, spear - in fact any part of him, touches me … once, all will be forgotten and I will let her go. If Patrolocus draws blood, whether that be a small scratch or a gushing wound, then I will get down on my knees and beg for forgiveness as well as letting her go."

"And - and this will be all be forgotten?" Patrolocus added quickly, he knew from experience just for how long Achilles could hold a grudge.

Achilles' smile faded a fraction, "it will."

"But if you win?" he asked worriedly.

"_When _I win," the men began to laugh and hoot, "you will forget all these notions of heroics, especially in relation to her, and will continue about your day as if nothing has happened … we will never speak of it again. To win all I have to do is touch you twenty five times - on your skin, armour will not count - with my wooden sword."

_Twenty five times._ He could do this.

Patrolocus nodded, raised his sword a little higher and pulled out his shield so that he could protect the front of his body. Then, he charged.

* * *

AN: How are you feeling about the differences between Achilles and Patrolocus?

**Oh and don't forget to feed me!**


	8. The Aging of Priam

AN: Heya people sorry for the delay, Easter Holiday and all that, spent time with the family, ate enough to make me have nightmares of gyms and rice crackers (die rice crackers die!)

**The Aging of Priam**

The cheering died down.

Patrolocus was dead.

Apollina felt her eyes sting at the thought of that poor boy, cut down by his own _cousin _for helping her. The rumours were right; the Greeks really were barbarians and if that rumour had been right then the others … Oh Apollo …

The flap opened, Achilles entered and threw down his weapons, Apollina strained to see whether there was any blood on them but he fell to his knees in front of her, blocking her view before she could. She slumped backwards as far as she could go without ending up on her back but he only leaned into her until he was practically breathing the air she exhaled. The gag in her mouth dampened as she wheezed at his proximity.

He tenderly traced her bottom lip with a finger, his eyes fixated on the way it quivered around the gag. She tried to move back further but her tied legs made it almost impossible and to do so anymore would end up with her horizontal - and she was too scared that that would give him ideas. Then suddenly he leant forward, his face crowding into hers, and caught her bottom lip with his teeth. Sucked at it. Fear raced through her and this time she didn't care where she ended up so she thrashed her head, shaking him off her and began to sob. Achilles sighed, his face a mask of placidity that made her want to scratch and bite him, and laid his head in her lap.

"You're safer with me you know," he looked up at her to see how she reacted to that. As predicted, she cried harder, mouth wide open in a hoarse scream of denial. He reached out to maybe rub her cheek in comfort but she jerked away from him, with a displeased frown, he wrapped his hand around her hair, held her in place and carried on.

First, he stroked the hill of her cheek, pressing down until he could feel the bone underneath, then he slid up her nose, across her forehead - pushed some wayward hair behind her ears - and back down again to feel the tremor in her chin. Her fluttering black eyelashes entranced him so he put his fingers just underneath them, mesmerised by the feeling of them brushing against him. She swallowed hard and Achilles could see the slight movement in her throat as she did so, but when he wrapped his fingers around her neck to feel it she panicked and thrashed again so he let go.

"Look at me," she tensed, confused, worn out, scared. "I just want to see your eyes … that's all." She carried on looking at the distant wall for a while in defiance then slowly met his gaze. Brilliant greys peered out of red-rimmed eyes with wet lashes that had clumped together. The sight made him speechless.

"They're - " he struggled to find the right words as his fingers dusted over an eyelid and came to rest in the very corner of her left eye. "Like … storm clouds." He shook his head as soon as he said it. "No." Storm clouds were darker; hers were a gorgeous vivid grey. "Granite? No … too dull." She hiccupped, blinked and studied him back, a wary tint to her eyes that all prey had when facing a dangerous, unpredictable predator.

~X~

"Aren't you going to say anything?"

She remained on the floor, rubbing at her wrists and ankles, her gag lay on the ground next to her. He hadn't tied them tightly but apparently it had been tight enough to bruise her pampered flesh and all the twisting around couldn't have helped - that had been all her. He had slathered some paste the Healer had made on it but from the green smears on her dress, he gathered that she didn't approve. Nor did she seem to approve of the food and wine he had given her. She had nibbled on the bread, almost retched at the sight of the meat and spat the wine back into the goblet after one mouthful.

He had a feeling she would be quite the upkeep.

"I'm going to fight you know." She continued to ignore him and instead stared stonily down at the plate of untouched food. The red headed slave girl knelt down to tie his grieves into place, looked up at him with cow eyes, her lips puckered open. His groin tightened. He ignored it. Pushed her away a little harder then she had expected, making Apollina tense, and finished dressing himself. "I could die." He glowered at her lack of response. "… _If _I die you'll be given to another soldier … and not one of them will be as kind to you as me, they'll probably pass you around. Share you. Everyone wants a taste of a Trojan Princess."

That got a reaction out of her.

He had to hold her down to kiss her forehead.

~X~

"If I die today-"

Odysseus looked at him as if he was the dumbest man on Earth. Agamemnon whistled by in his chariot rousing the men into a war spirit. "Why would you die?"

Achilles rolled his eyes and simultaneously gave Eudorus a signal to lead the smaller fraction of Myrmidons on his right. "Contrary to belief my mother is not a Goddess and I was not thrown in the Styx."

"It's _dipped_, not thrown." Achilles rolled his eyes again. "Being thrown in would have drowned you, you dolt. And yes you are and I won't hear otherwise." Odysseus snickered then frowned when Achilles didn't join in. "Eh now, what's this about?"

"If I die Odysseus," Odysseus looked ready to argue but Achilles spoke over him, "and if we win the war then I want you to make sure you send her back to Hellas. To my mother."

"Who? The Princess?"

Achilles nodded, furrows of thought lining his forehead, "no one else is to have her, you will make sure she gets there and you will tell my mother that she will be treated like -"

Odysseus looked bemused. "Like?" he urged.

"My wife … treated like my wife."

… This was a rather interesting development.

~X~

The moon white slave boy was fitting him into his armour when Andromache spoke, "where do you think they'll be by now?" She had to whisper since their son had just fallen asleep but Hector still heard her. He tested the chest plate and nodded at the boy, satisfied that it was snug enough.

"Probably a little past Imbros, if they stopped there to eat - stretch their legs, then they would be in Thrace in a little over three days, if they didn't they'll be there in a day and a half if there's good wind." The lad knelt to tie his grieves on, the bronze and silver tassels in his pale white hair jingled as he moved.

"When do you …"

Hector motioned for the slave to tighten the grieves a little more, "when do I what?"

Andromache smiled shakily at him, her decadently chocolate brown eyes fixed on her sleeping son. "It's nothing. I'm being silly."

He motioned for the boy to stand outside, and sat down behind her, embracing her gently, careful not to hurt her with his armour. "What is it?" He kissed the back of her slender neck in encouragement and felt shame sweep through him when he felt how fragile it really was.

"I just -" she laughed but it sounded forced. "How long will they be there? In Thrace?"

He didn't answer for a few seconds, had to make sure his voice was steady, the kind of voice that you would trust even as it lies to you, "not long, just a little while," he reassured her. She tightened her grip on him and he felt the panic recede a little at the hidden strength in her arms.

"Hector!" yelled someone from outside. "Prince Hector!" His son jerked away and began crying; he strode to the door and pulled it open. Behind him, Andromache swung his son up into her arms, whispering soothingly to him even though her attention was focused on the disturbance outside. Aeneas, his brother-in-law, stood there, his face taut with horror. "You _must _come - there is _something _you have to see!"

~X~

Days after they had left for Thrace, the young Princes and Princesses of Troy came back.

The boys came in ramshackle carts, one piled on top of the other, boys as young as five crushed under the weight of their brothers. They had been striped of everything, jewels, clothes. Their heads. The Greeks had kept the former two but the latter had been returned to them in another cart. They were all so rotten by now in the heat that maggots crawled all over them and the air was black with flies.

And pulling their dead brothers were the Princesses.

Apparently they had had to go to very the start of Mount Ida, where the River Scamander was shallowest, after having lost two heads and three bodies to the River elsewhere. That was what had taken them this long, none of them had known the easiest pathways and so it had been a slow, tedious trek through a forest littered with obstacles. The fear of the soldiers behind them though had given them incentive to march onwards.

Men began laying out the bodies, laying random heads at the top of every corpse since they were too disfigured to match correctly.

Hector floated past it all. Searching. Mothers wailed around him tearing out clumps of hair, thumping their wombs and clutching at their dead sons and returned daughters. The Princesses clung to them in a daze, Cassandra lay laughing and rolling in the dirt, her eyes darting fearfully away from the armoured men. His father ran towards his sons, roaming from one maggot ridden seeping corpse to another and finally fell into Hecuba's shivering embrace feeling all his years.

Hector still searched.

Andromache was rushing from girl to girl, Astynyax bouncing on her hip, her face drawn in a silent scream that he is sure he somehow hears. Others weren't as quiet. They cursed the Greeks, cursed Agamemnon, cursed Menelaus, cursed Achilles and cursed Helen.

Andromache looked at him, her face even paler then it had been. She didn't say anything. Just looked. But it was enough.

Hector fell to his knees. Old. Dead. Gone.

He cursed his father.

~X~

He could hear the faint sounds of the battle from his bedroom. He hadn't gone out to fight today, none of the Princes had. Polyxena, his sister, had told him that in the panic they weren't sure what had happened. Some, she was sure, had fallen overboard, or jumped. The Greeks had gone back for them with spears, they returned empty handed. No spears either. One had died on the Mountain, the child had been too young and the Princesses had been too inexperienced to scavenge at first, and she said that two had died when they got to the Greek camp.

In total six. Including Apollina.

"Your father's here." He didn't respond but Andromache took that as a yes and let him in.

Priam entered, the proud King was stooped and dishevelled and for once in his life, Hector couldn't bring himself to care. "Son … Hector … I-"

"I _begged _you, _begged _you to not do this," his bitter tone set Andromache's tears off again, Astynyax joined in, wailing in confusion at his mother's distress. Still plump arms reaching out to be picked up and consoled.

Priam's eyes clouded and he bent his head towards the ground, "… I know, and I came to ask … to ask you to forgive me."

Hector turned his head away.

Priam flinched but nodded and made his way to the door looking even older then when he came in. He paused at the doorway but didn't turn to face Hector again. Maybe he couldn't face Hector again. "She was my daughter, you know. She may have loved you more but that doesn't mean I loved her less."

~X~

The moon was high in the night sky by the time he returned to the tent, the men on guard saw him coming and left their post, stretching and yawning as they went. The battle had ended as soon as the sun had begun to set but it had been the meeting afterwards that had taken so long.

The Princes, including Hector, had been absent from today's battle. Nestor said that it was to mourn for their dead; perhaps the carts Agamemnon had sent had finally arrived. The Trojans, Nestor had commenced, as was their custom, would mourn for 12 days and it was more then likely that none of the immediate Royal family would fight until then. Twelve days with no Princes to guide them. No Hector. Now would be a perfect time to press their advantage and mount an offensive, they had voiced. Some of the more religious had balked at the idea, such an action would offend the gods they said, the dead deserved respect the said, especially those of royal lineage. A bitter back and forth had been instigated and hadn't stopped till Diomedes offended Elephenor by calling him a longhaired pillock. After a few death threats from both sides the two had parted amicably and the rest had slunk off to sleep.

He entered his tent with a tired smile, noted the disarray on the bed and tossed his black crested helmet to the floor. She was back in her corner but he knew from the mess that she had been sleeping there until she heard him coming.

"How are your wrists? Do they still hurt?" He asked as he shucked out of his armour and then out of the tunic he wore underneath, it was encrusted with blood and sweat and completely beyond repair. The armour would have to be mended before tomorrow; Prince Amphimachus from Miletus had managed to hack right through to the leather padding from behind while Achilles had been dealing with three very skilled Trojan archers and then ran like a girl all the way to the river when Achilles had turned around to face him. Achilles had gotten him with a spear but the force of it had toppled him into the Scamander, he would have been carried off by the current had Achilles not managed to grab his ankle. The fine gold armour with its thick red rubies had been another present for Agamemnon who had demanded it as soon as he had seen Eudorus carrying it off to Achilles tent. As had been a fine looking sword with heavy detail that Menelaus had won off another foreign Prince and a heavy spear Nireus had said he wrestled from Sarpedon, but Achilles had seen the man and small pretty Nireus was no match for the towering Lycian with his thick trunk like legs and bellowing roar. The man had probably dropped his spear accidentally and Nireus had no doubt picked it up and ran for his life. "I asked if they hurt Apollina."

"No," she said as stiffly as she dared. His black wraparound was to come off next; her head was buried on top of her knees so he knew she couldn't see him. "… Did you see my brother?"

Achilles scowled as he marched over to the basin of water left for him, he would have to go wash in the Scamander tomorrow as it wasn't wise to go wondering around at night and the sea was too cold and rough to dip into tonight. "No." The water clouded red as soon as he put his hands in it. "Maybe he's too scared to come and face me."

Her head shot up and shot immediately back down again when she remembered his state of undress, even though he hadn't seen them he knew her cheeks were aflame. "My - my brother isn't afraid of _anyone_." That made him laugh. "_I hate you_," she whispered warily, half hoping he wouldn't hear her.

He chuckled darkly, "I don't care."

She cried for her brother in her sleep.

~X~

The next morning a plate of roast pork, the choicest cuttings, with a slice of bread that wasn't as stale as yesterdays, some dubious looking greens, another plate of fresh fruit and some ridiculously sweet wine was placed before her. She was ravenous enough to eat by now and had managed to eat more then half before throwing it all up again inside his shield.

Eudorus had given her a dirty look, which she had replicated and multiplied by somehow looking down at him from her nose even though he was a lot taller then her. Eudorus had huffed and puffed the entire time he had taken the shield out to clean.

The healer gave him a tonic, said it would help strengthen her stomach and give her an appetite, gave him some herbs to burn to chase away the bad spirits who might be making her ill, except the little Princess wouldn't open her mouth for him to get the tonic down and started crying piteously every time he threatened her. He hadn't even meant it.

He eventually learnt to pour some in her drink - not too much otherwise it would taste bitter and she would figure it out then bring it all back up again, but just enough to, hopefully, do a bit of good.

~X~

She groaned again in her sleep and Achilles pulled her closer so that he could rub her belly easier. Circular motions. Round and round for ages until she drifted off for a little while. She had gotten used to sleeping in the bed with him by now, before she would glower and mope every time he stripped and he would have to drag her into it every night, but now, weak with fatigue and simply lacking the will to get up she barely left the bed.

"Hurts …" she mumbled dozily.

"I know," he mumbled back kissing her on the crown of her head and keeping up the rubbing. Round and round and round.

"Hector … hurts."

His mood darkened.

~X~

A group of passing men laughed loudly and both Achilles and Apollina awoke, except she stayed on the bed, eyes closed, not wanting to get up just yet. She felt slightly better today, couldn't taste bile on the back of her throat and didn't feel like retching at the very memory of the badly cut undercooked portions of flesh that had been served to her. The bed moved under her as Achilles untangled his arms from around her but the weight didn't lessen, he was still there, doing something but she didn't have the nerve to open her eyes and look to see what.

A hand landed heavy and sure on her stomach, she inched away from it only to bump into Achilles' front. The hand skimmed upwards then went sideways, cupping the unfortunate bumps that were her breasts. Her eyes shot open immediately, "I'm awake."

His hand inched higher. "I know." His voice was thick with sleep. His finger skimmed over a nipple that began to tighten and she jumped back into him to get away from it only to bump into something even more dangerous behind her. Achilles groaned and nuzzled her shoulder.

"Stop," she pleaded.

He pressed his hips into her, a hard grind that pushed her forwards and then pulled her back to his embrace gently. "Why?" Now his voice had a different kind of thickness to it.

"Because I don't like it," she whispered, tears making tracks in her dirty face.

"What makes you think I care?" He rolled his hips and they both gasped at the pressure. At the hardness.

She turned around to face him and he pulled her to him so that he could mouth at her neck and feel the swell of her breasts pressing against his chest. He so badly wanted to bury himself inside her, so badly wanted to feel her throb and convulse around him. "Because … if you didn't … you would have done it ages ago." His grip loosened enough for her to crawl off the bed and run to her corner.

She stayed there for the rest of the day and he slept in the bed alone that night.

She cried for her brother.

~X~

The next day he gave her goat meat and thick goat milk with a few drops of the tonic. Odysseus had brought them back from a raid in Tenedos, the ghastly creatures were tethered everywhere and already men were complaining. The smell reached to Olympus itself and the stupid animals had taken a liking to leather, Eudorus had had a fit when he noticed a bay she-goat glutting on Achilles' shoes after having sucked out a fair bit of leather from between a few shields.

She had ate it, not all of it, but looked queasy for the rest of the day, the milk was slurped down quite enthusiastically though so he had Eudorus keep the greedy bay one tethered nearby. Eudorus subsequently had another fit and shot another dark look her way, which she returned with interest.

AN: Hmm … mixed reaction to this chapter as well. I really love the return of the royals and the scene with Priam and Hector but … I'm not too fond of some of the moments between Achilles and Apollina … I don't know … I'm tired. It's 3:30AM, if there are any mistakes don't think less of me, mention it in your review and I will fix it when my eyesight isn't blurry … nite nite.


	9. Agamemnon’s Pet Monster

AN: Was it just me or was anybody else having trouble with Fanfiction's Document Manager? Oh well. Anyway … a lil somethin somethin for you all. Say thank you in your reviews.

**Agamemnon's Pet Monster**

She hated lentils, would sulk and sift through them like she was digging for gold, loved milk and hated most fish apart from the crunchy fried ones Eudorus had made one night. Apples were preferred green and tangy, as were grapes, and wine was enjoyed sweet and watered down heavily. She also had quite the sweet tooth and nuts made her cough all through the night, even though she loved them. And she would grow sick of anything that was given to her more than twice in a row.

As he had thought, quite the upkeep.

But it was worth it, because when he came back with the food she would be there. He would watch her eat and force her to talk to him, she would answer with either 'yes,' 'no' or the new favourite 'I hate you.' Then he would be summoned to get ready for battle and the only thing on his mind would be her.

He worried about her safety and comfort, fretted over her inability to keep down foods, pined for her and seethed with envy every time she called for her brother. And she did, every night. He'd have to change that. Then he would come back from battle and she would be there, waiting for him.

It was different, maybe that was the attraction, where once war, death, and fame had clouded his mind, whether awake or asleep, now they seemed insubstantial. Trivial. Whatever it was, he hadn't felt it before and he wanted it. Forever.

~X~

Achilles walked across the camp with a plate of goats' cheese, a freshly killed kid's thigh meat and more milk. The bread was untouchable now, the men had found little cream coloured eggs in the flour and eating it anyway had killed off six and landed the other five in the healer's tent. She would have to put up with lentils until someone raided a nearby city.

He stopped and smiled; she was peering out from under the flap curiously at the Myrmidon camp but remained safely inside their tent so that nothing apart from her eyes and her forehead showed. He had noticed that she was bored silly, she had taken to pacing up and down and building mounds with the sand inside the tent, even spoke to him more often without him forcing her to, though she would look most reluctant and would then continue to look guilty and ashamed for the rest of the night.

He walked closer to the tent and she ran back inside when she spotted him. Chuckling to himself, he pushed the flap back but stayed at the doorway. "Why don't you come eat outside?"

She shook her head vigorously but Achilles noted that the shake wasn't as strong as it could be.

"Come, you'll be safe, I'll be there the whole while." She glared up at him and Achilles didn't have to be a mind reader to guess her line of thought. But after a distasteful sweep around the confines of the tent and a wistful gaze at the entrance she nodded nervously and together they left. The men stopped what they were doing to get a good look at her; she froze under their stare and took two steps backwards. He caught her arm and yanked her to his side, "it's alright, they won't hurt you."

He had to pull her along but eventually they reached a bench that vacated quickly for him. She ate her food hastily, gulping it down just to get back inside as soon as possible, eyes flitting this way and that like a cornered deer, and even drank all the milk despite the fact that she'd had it for breakfast and lunch today.

"Can we go now?" he was still getting used to the shock of her speaking to him of her own initiative.

"Of course we can," he got up and tucked her underneath his arm with a smug grin, she was so wary of the other men that she didn't fight to get away from him. His grin widened.

He knew that the men had been most curious about her. The Trojan Princess that was said to be most dear to Hector and so dear to Achilles that he hadn't had any women round and had lost his reckless zeal for battle. Yes, the men had been dying to get a glimpse of her.

"You needn't fear them," he said, loud enough for his men to hear as well, "they won't touch you, they know what will happen if they dare. You can go around the camp as often as you like. Whenever you like." He wasn't worried about her running, there were sentries posted everywhere and she could hardly get into any trouble here. His men were rowdy and rough but they also followed his orders as if Zeus had sanctioned them and were fearful of upsetting him.

~X~

She didn't know what she had done to deserve this. One moment she was toppling one of the stupid sand mounds she had built and the next she was pressed against the walls of the tent with him _writhing _against her.

She wasn't that stupid, she knew with what intent he watched her. Eyes following her every step like a hunting dog watching a stray cat, and he didn't even have the manners to make an excuse for his behaviour.

She had enough brothers for her to notice a thing or two - as much as Hector and her parents had tried to keep her innocent, when her brother Polites had been interested in King Hyratacus' eldest daughter he had made all sorts of excuses to touch her at the feast. He would _accidentally _bump into her or touch her fingers when he was passing her a platter of carved quail - that she just _must _try, and again when he passed her a bowl of pomegranate to sample. However, she hadn't understood why the adults had tittered and clucked at that. Their exchanges hadn't gone unseen and they were married before the year was out.

Achilles did none of that, if he felt like touching her, he did. She would escape from his clutch when she was sure he was asleep only to find herself back inside the circle of his arms when she awoke. He would stop whatever he was doing to stroke frantically along her spine, or gently kiss the hollow of her throat, or lay his head tiredly on her chest, breathing heavily, moistly, on her covered breast. And as days passed, he only grew more daring. Yesterday he had held her down and lapped at her collarbone while she had stared at him in bewilderment, and today - today he had pushed her up against a wall.

His head was buried against her shoulder, practically into her shoulder, and he was panting and groaning as if in pain as he rubbed himself against her. Frightened, she pulled his lowered head up by the hair and found not the tears she had been expecting but a look of ecstasy on his face. His eyes looked delirious, unfocused, and there was a light sheen of sweat forming on his upper lip that seemed to grow and cover more of him with every passing moment.

"What is it?" she asked timidly. His eyes blinked into focus and he moaned loudly, making her jump, an erratic thrust of his hips made her head bang backwards but when the next thrust came, she felt his palm softening it for her, spanning her skull gently with a hand strong enough to crush it. "What is it?" she repeated, now too curious to keep silent.

He clenched his jaw hard, fisted the hand he had up on the wall next to her head and then bent down so he could press their foreheads together - his was strangely damp. "You," he answered, then he stiffened, clenched all over, teeth gritting as if in anger, body shaking hard enough to jostle her and damp with sweat as if in a fever, and then slumped against her, completely unravelled. For a long while, there was silence on her part and nothing but raspy breathing on his, similar to a racehorse after a long, hard run. When it evened out he gathered her into his arms with a fond look, placed her gently on the bed and left to go clean up at the basin. The wet cloth going down to his groin … When he came back he kissed the corner of her mouth and fell into a deep sleep with a satisfied smile.

She had no idea what had taken place but since it had something to do with an un-chaperoned man and woman, she gathered that it wasn't anything good. And since it had something to do with him, it definitely wasn't good for her.

Therefore, at the crack of dawn she was up, Achilles stirred, his face scrunched up, his fingers curled around air to pull her back to him but he had long since gotten used to her waking up at ridiculous times and wandering around the tent so he huffed and settled back into an even deeper sleep. With nothing much to do all she did was pace around and sleep.

Then, she left.

~X~

She looked the other way, where the plains were. Where Troy was. And wondered what would happen if she just walked- not even walk, just ambled casually off camp and towards Troy - upon which she would break out into a ran whilst screaming her head off, of course. Then she noticed the guards, lots of them, all armed, all eyeing her. She turned and walked the other way.

It was hard enough to hurt.

"They won't hurt me … it's safe. Absolutely safe. Perfectly safe," the sight of a one eyed fellow with really bad teeth made her speed up into an almost jog. That's when she walked past a pompous looking tent with crimson hangings, it caught her eye and she thought nothing of wandering inside. Achilles had said she could after all.

This tent was far larger then Achilles' but just as sparsely decorated, she turned to leave in disappointment but stopped when she noticed the glitter of gold further inside, behind a curtained off room. The gold had been heaped in large puddles all over the floor in a round room that was dominated by a stern black throne. The gold wasn't much, and neither was it much to look at - her father had a hundred fold of this back in Troy.

She picked up a gaudy looking goblet that weighed her arms down and inspected it. It was made of solid gold and had four square amethysts the size of her eye worked into it, the rim was speckled with smaller ones. She dropped it and carried on looking. An off-white lounger with spindly legs and onyx lions carousing around caught her attention next, there was even a cute little onyx cub hiding behind his mother but that too lost her attention when she saw a medium sized vase in another pile next to her. It told the tale of Jason and the Argonauts, its paintwork so detailed that she could count the eyelashes on handsome Jason's face. She went around it to see the other side and spotted a huge black monstrosity perched on a stool a few feet away from the throne.

It was an immense vase, its paintwork half finished, showing the full-length figure of a mighty man with bulky, muscle riddled arms and a wide chest held upright by sturdy feet. He sat on a black throne and gazed wisely out at a burning Troy.

Bile crept up her throat.

"What are you doing in here? Get away from my painting," snarled a voice behind her. It was the man who said she was to be given as a gift to Achilles, and when she saw that he was only a little man, barely taller then her, with a pot belly, stubby legs and a nonexistent neck, she burst into laughter.

~X~

"Achilles!"

Achilles cursed and rolled over, fingers searching for her instinctively.

"Achilles!"

He couldn't feel her. He opened an eye lazily to see if she was playing with the sand again - would have to talk to her about that, find her something to do to keep her busy. His left shoe had gone missing as had Eudorus' dagger sheath and her health tonic.

She wasn't there either. He pushed himself upright and stared blearily around the room. Not anywhere.

"My lord," Eudorus bustled into the tent looking hassled. "King Agamemnon is _demanding _your presence."

"Where is-" he asked Eudorus.

"Outside my lord … with Agamemnon."

Achilles shot off the bed, tied a wraparound loosely around as waist and ran outside. Agamemnon stood there, fuming, surrounded by a good number of his men; two of them were holding Apollina between them. Who was clutching the side of her face. His Myrmidons, sensing a clash, circled Agamemnon's wary soldiers like jackals, waiting for his say so before they pounced. Eudorus stood to Achilles' right, his hand tense and ready to pull out his sword.

"Control your whore!" Agamemnon spat, the men holding her pushed her forward but he caught her before she fell and hauled her upwards. Tilted her chin up gently so he could see her reddened cheek. She trembled in his arms like a leaf, eyes wide in shock. Cheeks wet with tears.

"Did you hit her?" he asked softly. Dangerously.

Agamemnon's oncoming tirade faltered, he glanced at Achilles guardedly, and his men reacted similarly. One man, a short fellow with dirty blond hair and a viscous looking scar running across one side of his face, quaked. Achilles sat her down tenderly on the ground and then darted past Agamemnon to deck the shivering man so hard he collapsed on the sand. His nose was shattered, his face an explosion of red, as was most of his tunic, and Achilles' fist.

With an uproar Agamemnon's men unsheathed their swords and made to rush at Achilles, his men, loyal only to him, whipped out their own swords and stepped forward, boxing them in. Realising they were severely outnumbered the Mycenaean's looked towards a spluttering Agamemnon who screamed at them to stand down.

"The next time it'll be fatal," he warned Agamemnon. He turned his back on the King, picked up Apollina and re-entered the tent.

"What did she do?" asked Odysseus who had just appeared at the scene but had gotten the gist of the matter.

"She … broke my vase …" Agamemnon answered as if in a daze. "What did she do to him?"

~X~

He set her down on the bed and looked her over. The skin just looked reddened and though there might be a little pain, he doubted whether it would even bruise but he turned to get a cloth and some cold water anyway. But as he was leaving something jerked and held him in place, he looked down and saw small hands holding onto his tunic. She sniffled, wrapped her arms around his waist, laid her head on his stomach, and began to cry.

"Shh," he soothed, running a hand through her messy hair, "it's alright, I taught him a lesson didn't I? When I meant that you could wander wherever you please I meant in _this _camp, my camp, not anyone else's. If you want to go past our camp then you tell me and I'll come with you."

"Why me?" she whimpered into his bare stomach making him shiver and shift closer to her.

Achilles remained quiet for a while, to both think and enjoy the press of her skin against his own. He didn't know how she was going to take this. "… Because I've changed," she shook her head, not understanding but Achilles didn't explain further. "Why … not me?"

She stiffened and pulled away from him, suddenly remembering who they were and why they were here. "Because you're you," it came out soft, scared, but laced with anger.

He stared at her, surprised that a girl so small could hurt him with three words when men twice her size had managed less with three weapons. This time it was he who stormed off, leaving her to sleep alone inside the tent, eyes filled with guilt and shame.

~X~

King Agamemnon didn't sleep at all that night, instead, he paced up and down his chamber in a panic, not even fiddling with the heaps of gold soothed him. He was worried for a reason; a celebrated augur had prophesised to him that Troy would not fall while Hector, guardian of the gates, still lived. The man had not been able to tell him anything beyond that but another ludicrously expensive visit, this time to a prophetess of Athena, had informed him that the war would not be won without a son a Peleus. And Peleus had only one son. Achilles. So, it had been simple to put two and two together.

He had first heard of Achilles when he was over conquering Salamis, apparently old Peleus was about to kick it, leaving his fifteen year old son sitting pretty as the sole heir to the throne, and Agamemnon suddenly wanted to be the boy's best friend. A little more investigation had had him well informed about the boy's talents with a sword and spear, and the name of the man who had trained him. Chiron didn't just train anybody after all; among his students were Heracles, Jason, Theseus and old Peleus himself. It had taken them a while to find the boy; his mother had heard of his coming and hidden him away with a bunch of pretty girls hoping it would sway his decision towards marriage rather than warfare.

They found his hideout but King Lycomedes wouldn't let them approach the lad let alone talk to him, no doubt in the hopes that heir-to-the-throne Prince Achilles would marry one of his pretty daughters. Therefore, he had Odysseus sent for. The man had a tongue of solid silver and could convince you that parting with your soul was in your best interest.

He strolled into town at noon and came skipping back with the boy before it was time to eat.

He had sent him on raid after raid, battle after battle, watching him grow from a lanky, surly fifteen year old to a towering, surly twenty-something-year-old. An irritating twenty-something-year-old to boot, but more importantly, the boy's natural talent for killing had been nurtured to the point where one planned celebrations ahead of time.

Achilles was simply _born _to win wars.

But … recently … he fought and fought well enough but there wasn't the zest for it that he had been feared for. He chased men and cut them down but not with the same satisfaction, the same glee, and in meetings he seemed distracted, didn't even argue with him just for the sake of hearing his own voice. Moreover, as soon as the meeting was over he would rush out, back to his infernal tent.

He knew that men, especially during war, went a little crazy for women, what with them having to so often go celibate for long periods of time, and their impending deaths hanging over them and all, but this was _ridiculous_. _Beyond _ridiculous. But he didn't know what to do about it without having his face caved in for his intrusion.

That was the thing about raising monsters. You teach them to bite _and bite hard_, you show them the way to glory, and fame, and riches beyond their wildest dreams but eventually they'll stop distinguishing master from enemy.

He had made Achilles the man he was today, showed him his purpose, the reason the gods had put him on this Earth, but he had a feeling that his generosity would come back to bite him on the arse.

"Ungrateful bastard."

AN: I really love writing Agamemnon, he's such a … fleshy character to write. Did anyone guess about the crimson? A chapter will be dedicated to the first person who notices where I got that from, or maybe it's too subtle. Oh well, it's a hard puzzle.

And for all those who are going oh no! that was hardly anything, we want sexy time! Don't worry, all in good time. And not even that far off.


	10. Twelve Days

AN: Hmm I'm partially pleased with this chapter. And dealing with Hector's angst was fun. Tell me if it was a little too much, I have this tendency to wax lyrical. And of course we get to meet a few new characters. Including Nestor and Ajax, I know that the whole Salamis/Locris thing might be a little confusing but it was necessary because … well, you'll see later.

**Twelve Days**

Life should have grinded to a stop, how could people continue to eat and drink and _breathe _when the people they loved were gone? Their sons? Daughters? Brothers?

Sisters?

_How_?

He had lost people before of course, brothers and half brothers, but with so many of them around it was easy to be nothing more then acquaintances with some and a little more then friends with others. Besides, they were soldiers, she was … a scared little girl who had trusted him more then was good for her.

The Greeks had pushed their advantage a day into the mourning and the men had begun to drop like flies, without the Princes to lead them the Trojan army had come back defeated and depleted every day. Seeing no other way out of this Priam had ordered his sons to strap on their armour and go back to the field. But Hector had refused. For thirty-nine years he had obeyed his country - obeyed his father, and all he wanted in return was twelve days to mourn the little girl he had loved and looked after like a daughter ever since she was born.

He spent those twelve days mostly in his room with Andromache, the only other person who had ever come close to loving Apollina as fiercely as he had. They holed up together and suffered.

Then the dreams began.

They tore at him, tore him right open and left him sobbing and begging for things that were impossible or laughing at a memory that was suddenly as clear as reality. He dreamed of her as a wrinkly new born with a sorry looking tuft of black hair. He dreamed of when she had taken her first steps, people had been amazed that she had been able to walk at all since he rarely put her down. And that time when she had shut everyone up with her first word, it hadn't been mother, or father, not even his name. She had picked up a Cretan swearword from god knows where and no amount of distracting would convince her to forget it. Even now, he was convinced it was Trolius who had taught her it. He dreamed of her begging him to throw her higher up into the air, '_I'm Icarus, Hector! Look! I'm Icarus_!'

Those dreams were hard but the ones of her drowning or - or - lying broken and bleeding to death in the Greek camp just about felled him. On those days he didn't dare leave his room, didn't dare look anyone in the face just in case they could see the curses he wanted to hurl at them for living when she wasn't. Those were the days that he shouted at slaves for no reason or pushed his wife away as she leaned into hug him or punched his brother for spilling wine on his tunic.

But the hardest dreams were the ones that would never come to pass. Those days frightened Andromache the most, silent days with not a word being said or a feeling being felt.

All he felt was dead.

He dreamt of infatuations that would never be talked down from, suitors he would never approve of and marriages he would never send invites out for. Plump babies he would never coo over and years he would never see on her.

He dreamt for twelve days undisturbed and then he put on his armour and left his room.

~X~

"Did you see my brother?" she asked him again as he entered the tent, he had been able to clean up this time before going off to the meeting but she hadn't been inside the tent when he came. Eudorus had informed him that he had seen her up on his ship so he hadn't been too worried. Told Eudorus to keep an eye on her though, just in case.

"No." He had, several times in fact. Hector had come back exactly when the twelve days had finished with a more ruthless sheen and a heavier arm. He killed Greeks like he had a personal vendetta against each one and his wins were beginning to not only stack up but demoralise the Achaeans. The tide had turned with the return of Hector and the Trojans were riding it.

Agamemnon immediately found a way to make it all Achilles' fault, of course.

There was silence for a while and Achilles used the time to look for the empty wine pouch he had left on the bed. Except it was gone. With a sigh, he dropped to his knees and looked underneath the bed only to find nothing there.

"Have you met Theseus?" Achilles stopped his search to look bemusedly up at her.

"How old do you think I am?"

"I don't know. Old."

"Twenty-eight," he thought of adding 'just' to the beginning but the number came out before he could attach the word to it. Too late for it now.

"_My _brother's thirty-nine." _Good for him, _Achilles thought bitterly. She was adding a fortress to her new mound. "Who _have _you met then?"

"Lots of people."

"Like?"

"… Odysseus." She didn't look too impressed, obviously his part in her abduction still rankled. "Menelaus?" That didn't seem to impress her either. "Ajax? Nestor?"

Her face lit up.

~X~

First, he sent her off to be scrubbed clean with a few of the slave girls. She had come back several shades lighter with inches off her hair where the slave girls hadn't been able to comb the tangles out.

Now, wearing the same peplos, though washed, since she had nothing else to wear and wouldn't put on any of the slaves' clothes, with lopsided hair and eyes that were still teary from all that brushing, she was ready to go see Ajax.

Since there were two Ajax's, he took her to see the one from Locris first. Ajax of Locris was a small man from a rather poor city but was a great shot with an arrow - one of their best marksmen - and humble as they come. He was dismissed immediately as being "rather weeny."

Ajax of Salamis was not "rather weeny" at all. He was a mountain of a man who dwarfed horses and shrugged off gushing wounds like one would shrug off a mosquito bite.

Apollina was struck dumb. Achilles was so jealous he almost dragged her back to their tent. Flexed his muscles and stood straighter but she barely noticed.

"Ajax," his friend turned and then raised his eyebrow at the sight of the awestruck girl beside him. "This is Apollina - uh - she-" … _Do something impressive_ …

"Can you lift up a horse?" Apollina interrupted with avid interest. Achilles turned the gnashing of his teeth into an amused eye roll.

Ajax narrowed his eyes, "… I've never tried." He couldn't … at least he didn't think so …

"How many people have you killed?"

"… I don't know." Far less then Achilles.

"What's the most gruesome way you killed someone?" Through the eye, straight into the skull. Man stayed alive for hours.

Ajax looked at him, a bushy brow raised high. "There was this girl. She kept asking me all these stupid questions so -"

BAM!

Ajax brought his heavy stone club down to the ground hard. Apollina shrieked and ran into the circle of his arms.

"-And she was flattened," Ajax finished with a grin.

From the safety of his grip her muffled remark was, "I hope you drop that thing on your foot, you overgrown oaf."

~X~

After Ajax's poor reception it had taken some persuading to convince her to come see Nestor, and even after she saw that he was a wizened old man with a receding hairline and deep wrinkles on his leathery face, she still stayed behind him. Nestor had come here - not to aggravate everyone like Odysseus often joked - but to advise Agamemnon and support his many sons. Nestor had more experience with wars then anyone here but had a way of rambling on and on and on …

"Nestor," he called out loudly - he was a little hard of hearing, the man came and greeted him warmly, he was in fine spirits after the return of his sons.

"Ah Achilles, I was just telling-" he cut the man off knowing that if he didn't he would be here all day hearing about what conversations he'd had with whichever poor bugger hadn't been fast enough to evade him.

"This is Princess Apollina, Nestor, I told her that you had met Theseus and she demanded to see you."

That was all it took, Nestor's old face broke into a wide surprised smile that was missing a few front teeth and he launched into his tale with gusto.

~X~

The moon was already high up in the sky by the time he had managed to drag her away from the old King, when he had used hunger as an excuse the man had sent for his slave girls to prepare meals for them, and he had only managed to leave now because Nestor's eldest had helped distract his father.

But it was worth it. She was grinning from ear to ear. It was worth it.

"Can you believe he _actually _met _Theseus_!" she screeched excitedly as she jumped up and down on the bed.

"Come and sleep," he moaned, ignoring the spike of jealousy. One day she would be gushing about his deeds to other people.

"And Theseus slaughtered all those centaurs _even _though he was drunk and he even took on _ten _at a time!" She mimed a wobbly sword fight with invisible foes, her stance so terrible that an enemy would be able to knock her off her feet with just a push. He huffed and turned on his side away from her. _He _had sacked the Trojan beach with only fifty men, _he _had fought Hector at the very walls of Troy and decided to let the man live, _he _had sent son of Troy after son of Troy to be burnt on a pyre before their time. But he had a feeling that she wouldn't be as excited to hear those stories.

He felt a thump as she jumped into a sitting position then fell down next to him. He turned to her and opened his arms, her smile diminished but she slid on top of him nonetheless, snoring slightly while pillowed on his chest.

Achilles stayed up for quite a while with a smile on his face.

She didn't call for Hector.

~X~

He must have drifted off sometime in the night because when he woke he couldn't feel the weight of her sprawled on top of him or hear her running around the tent flinging sand this way and that. He had gotten so used to her always moving around and getting up at night for water that he hadn't even noticed that she had left. He was getting soft. It was rather a good feeling. "Apollina?" he called out groggily. Surely she hadn't wandered off to someone's tent again. He hoped for Agamemnon's sake that it wasn't his.

Fear rose quickly when he remembered Agamemnon's cruel streak, the King had after all beheaded children and sent them back to their parents whilst being dragged by their sisters. And this streak tended to be especially more pronounced where Achilles was concerned. He rushed outside and was greeted by a bleary-eyed Eudorus; the men were wobbling around like toddlers, some face down on their pallets while others retched into the sea. "Had a bit of a mourning last night, my lord-" One of his men's brother had been slain in last night's battle.

"Is she here?" he interrupted.

Eudorus looked baffled, "no, not here my lord."

"Then find her. Fast. Send out everyone who is still upright."

~X~

He was, in essence, a man prone to spontaneity, which, Chiron had taught him, was his one weakness. His tendency to act first and think later had gotten him into a lot of trouble as a youth, but he thought he had outgrown it years ago.

Apparently not.

Because now he was in Agamemnon's tent and he was throttling the purpling King against the walls of his chamber. "Where is she? What have you done to her?"

Agamemnon could barely grit the words out. "Nothing, I have done _nothing_!"

Odysseus and Ajax of Salamis ran forward to try to stop their friend from killing him. Agamemnon looked a little faint by now. Odysseus was grabbing the arm that Achilles was using to hold the King up when Achilles shoved him away. With a crash he fell off the raised platform right on top of the new vase Agamemnon had been having made. A small paint speckled fellow with a shock of yellow hair began wailing for the muses to give him strength.

Ajax had somehow managed to gather Achilles into a precarious bear hug while Agamemnon exited the tent as fast as his little legs could carry him. "She's with Nestor, Achilles, I saw her there," Odysseus winced as he dusted bits of pottery of his back and arse.

Achilles pushed Ajax off him and marched out as well, Odysseus and Ajax followed just in case he started suffocating old Nestor too.

~X~

She was lying on the sand on her stomach, listening to Nestor's yarns with a wondrous expression on her face and Achilles felt the anger ebb away. As easily as that.

"Apollina. Nestor," he called out as a greeting. They both turned to look at him, Nestor smiled and motioned for him to approach but Apollina turned back to the old man.

"Achilles my lad, I was just telling the young Princess about the time when King Theseus invited me to go with him to the underworld," the old man informed him.

"Oh Zeus, poor girl, she'll be unintelligible for days," Odysseus murmured making Ajax snicker; he had to leave for fear of offending Nestor.

"She was here the whole time?" Achilles asked ignoring his friends' antics.

"Oh yes, right here," the old man assured him.

"No one gave her trouble?"

"No of course not, in _my _protection wasn't she. I may be old but I can still take on any man here. My loins are still girded enough to fight beside Theseus as I once did in my Prime." Odysseus had to leave as well after that one.

"Well then, we have to go, it's time for breakfast-"

"I gave her breakfast."

"Still we have-"

Apollina turned around and looked at him with big grey eyes, eyes the colour of fish scales - no still too light, "can I stay a bit more?" she pleaded. "Just till we finish the story?"

~X~

"So if she says jump?" Odysseus asked gleefully.

Achilles rolled his eyes in exasperation, "I would say," he answered monotonously, "Ida's not quite high enough sweetheart, why don't I try Olympus?" Odysseus almost hurt himself as he fell about laughing.

"What's so funny?" Patrolocus asked as he entered the tent. Everything went silent. The boy had been avoiding him for weeks now and it had rankled. He had thought everything would go back to the way it had been before but Patrolocus had hidden himself inside his tent as soon as Achilles had beaten him. Not wanting Patrolocus to have to face the jeers of the other men, Achilles had told Eudorus to take his meals to him and decided to give him time to lick his wounds. Both type of wounds. Patrolocus fidgeted at the lack of response, "I'm here - for training cousin."

Achilles remained quiet.

Odysseus looked between the two and pulled the boy further into the room, "The boy's here for training. Go on, forgive the lad already. We all get those heroic notions in our heads at his age and when you add a Princess … well, you know the tales." Achilles remained stony faced. "Go on, he's sorry," urged Odysseus. "Aren't you lad?" Patrolocus nodded firmly.

"What was the moral of that lesson Patrolocus?" Achilles questioned.

Patrolocus looked at the ground. "Never underestimate you."

Odysseus got ready to break apart another brawl but relaxed when Achilles smiled instead. "Good, go get your wooden sword and meet me outside."

AN: I know 28 … is a little old for her, but in those days girls married young, extremely young. So I had to make her young enough to not be married, and even then I probably made her too old. And I didn't want Achilles to be a boy, he had to be old enough to have the confidence and grace that comes with age, a man in his prime. Patrolocus is the youth, he shows us how he behaves because of the naivety that his age gives him. Achilles, hardened by war and age, gives us the perspective of a battle hardened man. And anyway Menelaus/Helen … Icky but true. And she probably married him when she was around 14.


	11. Of Nightmares and Needs

AN: Sexy Time! And yet not so much … it's a little - um … no spoilers. But just remember, M for a reason. I was a little … iffy about Achilles' 'war is addictive' speech. I'm not sure it's perfect enough … I've got the basics of what I want to say down but I haven't said it the way I want to say it. You know?

**Of Nightmares and Needs**

"Isn't Nestor amazing?" She was eating well today, the men had caught two good-sized does and a stag from Mount Ida, but hadn't touched the lentils, the milk too was untouched but she had taken small sips of the wine.

"Amazing …" he murmured in response as he bit into a too juicy flank. He frowned and knelt over her plate to make sure all her meat wasn't undercooked. She gave him no notice, too used to this to be bothered now. With a satisfied nod, he went back to eating his own food.

She frowned and swallowed what was in her mouth. "What?"

"If half of what he says is true I'll eat my own arm," he chuckled. The effect of the chuckle was ruined entirely by the grimace that came from tasting the watery sweet wine. Tasted more like sugared water then wine.

"_I _don't think he's lying." Achilles knew that in her head she was finishing it with a 'so there!' She poked at the meat and took another bite. "You know, one time, when I was really, really, young we went to see this woman in Lemnos. She lived in a cave high up in the Mountains and ate bats." She looked to see how he reacted but he just carried on eating. "She was really old, Trolius said that she was probably more than a hundred years old, but I knew he was lying, I'm not that stupid. And if you wait by the river she'll come out and accept your gifts and answer one question that you ask her."

Achilles smiled indulgently, "and what did the crazy lady tell you?"

Indignant at his response she huffed and puffed, waiting for an apology, when none was given she ploughed on looking a little ruffled. "Nothing. Cassandra went first, my mother wanted to know how to cure her madness but the woman started screaming and crying and then wouldn't come down to the river to take our gifts anymore. So I didn't get to ask her my question."

"Why, what did you want to ask her?"

"What all the girls were told to ask, of course. Who … we were going to marry …"

After that, the mood was a little sombre and she wouldn't speak to him for two days.

~X~

The fighting had ended early today, the heat had been indescribable and both sides had called it quits. He had seen Hector again but hadn't challenged him, just gone the other way. She was sitting on the bed when he came back, knees pulled up, hair glistening with some scented oil one of the girls had rubbed in, yawning as she stared into space. "I bought you some new dresses to wear."

She stiffened immediately, "umm - I - I don't think I really need one." Which was ridiculous because her once fine white tunic was indistinguishable and frayed badly along the edges. Achilles arched a brow and looked her up and down, resigned she took the clothes from him and dumped them on the bed.

The new clothes were probably nothing like she was used to, he had seen what she had came in and even though a little dirty it had been beyond beautiful, and from the way she was poking at them he gathered that she felt the same. One was a deep green, like the bottom of a mossy well, and had simple swirls made of green beads weaved into it. The other was a dingy grey with a blue finish and the last was an ebony black with silver and white beads clumped together every here and there in the vague shape of flowers, or boulders, it was hard to tell. All were too long, too wide, scratchy and shapeless.

"Now?" she asked timidly.

He nodded.

"But you …"

He knew what she was going to say, "Am not leaving and will not do anything. I promise." She shook her head petulantly and when he carried on standing there, she began to cry. "Why not?"

"Because," she whispered, her voice small and desperate, "then I can't get married."

Achilles went silent, "well then, now I definitely have to stay. Go on." She shook her head and defiantly stepped away from the clothes. "Otherwise I'll have to do it for you," he threatened with enough heat in his voice to show her he meant it, immediately her hand went out and she picked up the ugly grey one. "Good girl."

She strode over to the far corner, facing the wall, and tried to pull the peplos down her body instead of up so that she could cover herself with the new dress without showing any skin but the neck was too tight and she couldn't get it past her shoulders. She peeked over her shoulder and saw that he was still standing there, watching her, yes, but just standing there. Apollina took a deep breath and quickly threw her ruined peplos off and pulled the new one over her head, she had almost gotten it past her breasts when Achilles pressed into her from behind and stilled her hands.

"You said you wouldn't," she accused. "You promised!" His hands slid up the swell of her belly to the underside of her breasts, now unencumbered by cloth. "You promised … please." He turned her around to face him; his eyes were dark and dilated.

"Can you still get married?" he husked as his fingers ghosted over her nipples, watching the puckers smooth out as the little buds hardened and jutted into his palm. Her body felt alien to her, she could swear that she felt pulses all over her, the strongest being where he had his fingers and lighter ones scattered wherever his gaze landed. He tweaked them and it hurt … but not a hurt that made her want to cry, or maybe it did, she wasn't sure. A _throb throb _hurt that peaked and then fell. "Well?"

She had no idea what the question had been but this had to stop. This was wrong. She would be ruined and no man of good station would marry a ruined girl. She nodded absent-mindedly.

He knelt down giving her a view of the top of his head. And suddenly, she was moist.

A warm tongue circled her stiffening nipple, suckling, nipping hard, and then laved soothingly at the sore tip and the heated skin around it. White-hot shock rooted her to the floor like a statue and tears trickled faster from her eyes. This was it. He would take her now and she would be ruined.

Her legs shook as a particularly hard pull made something inside of her clench and _hurt_, she cried out, unable to hold it in and he shuddered and pulled his wet mouth off her reluctantly.

He laid his head on her breast and waited until both their breathing had evened out. "Can you still get married?"

"No," she choked out.

"… Good."

He helped her put her new dress on and fell onto the bed.

She sat down in her corner and cried for her brother.

~X~

She remained angry with him over that incident for a week and no amount of subtle grovelling got him anywhere. He plied her with food, gave her pretty jewellery that he had won from old raids and went with her to sit through Nestor's rubbish everyday. But determinedly she ignored him.

Then she forgave him just like that.

It had happened just after sunset, he was lying sullenly in bed looking up at the thatching when she came flouncing in - wearing the moss green peplos this time, its baggy figure smothered her in a sea of wool that dragged sand along wherever she walked - and laughed.

"What?" he asked bewildered at her sudden attention to him after a week of isolation.

She tried to talk but seemed to find it impossible to stop laughing; miffed he pushed the quilt off and got to his feet. She squeaked and covered her eyes, opened them again once she was certain he was wearing a wraparound. "So _is it _true! It is right?"

"Yes I can read minds," he replied sarcastically, still a little hurt by the last seven days. It had been Hell.

She ignored his tone, "Nestor told me -" she giggled, "that - that - it was true that you were hidden away-" he had heard enough, "in girls' clothes to stop you going to war!" He was going to kill that old fart.

"_No_, I was not."

"Well you're not going to admit to it are you? It's kind of … embarrassing … emasculating even."

"But I didn't!" he spluttered in protested. Emasculating!

"Alright … I believe you … if you say so," she said with a toothy grin that suggested otherwise.

Achilles gritted his teeth. "My mother sent me off to live with an old ally of my father's; he had many daughters and no sons. I was with them when Odysseus came along and convinced me to become a soldier. I was _not _dressed in womens' clothes. _Ever_." Emasculating, huh.

"Why did she do that? Send you away?" she asked curiously.

"She didn't want me to fight."

Her eyes widened, she was looking at him like she looked at Nestor. It was kind of nice really. "Because of the prophecy!"

_Oh for the love of Zeus! What had that old idiot been telling her? _"No! No prophecy. I'm a soldier who _always _fights on the front lines, the risk of me dying therefore is greatly increased as opposed to -" She was beginning to zone out, he softened his tone till he caught her attention again. "She didn't want me to die Princess, because she's my mother, that's all … no prophecy."

Apollina understood that bit, whenever Hector went out to fight her mother and Andromache would always wonder around dripping with tears till he came back again. Which was stupid, in her opinion. He _always _came back. "Did you want to fight?"

"Always …" his eyes glazed as he remembered the thrill of it, "it's addicting." Had been. "The power to end lives and change the fate of an entire Kingdom resting on how I fight and who I kill. You go out everyday wondering if today you'll meet your match … if today will be the day that you meet a worthy enough opponent to win your arms." He smiled down at her, and to Apollina that smile looked ghastly, almost animalistic. "Your brother probably feels the same way. All warriors do."

Someone called for him, he kissed her on the forehead and left to attend whatever issue had arisen.

She _had _once asked Hector the very same question. His reply had been that his people, his father, his mother, his brothers, his sisters, his wife, his son and his home was here so he had to protect it. And that his duty was to his family first and his conscience second.

That night, she dreamt of lions.

~X~

_Apollina. _It started the same. Her standing in a thick black fog and Achilles leaping out of the blackness at her. _Apollina_. But this time he circled her like her brothers' dogs would circle a rabbit hole, round and round and round until she felt dizzy. _Apollina_. She would try to run but he would cut her off and circle faster, keeping her within a ring that grew smaller and smaller -

"Apollina! … Shh, it's okay. It's okay, I'm here now."

~X~

"You were having a nightmare," he murmured. Apollina scrubbed at the tears on her face and tried to stop shaking. She couldn't see him in the dark but the warm breath on her cheek told her that he was very near. She so badly wanted comfort that even he would do at this moment so she edged nearer and wrapped her arms around him.

His breath hitched and he shifted so that she could get closer. Their stomachs touched. He moaned at the contact and reached down, pulling the bottom of her trailing dress up her legs. "No! I - not that, I wanted …" He stopped and she saw his eyes boring into her and then the world shifted and she was on her back. "No please! Achilles please!" He climbed on top of her and nudged her legs apart then placed himself between them. "Stop! Please! Please -"

"Shh," he soothed tenderly as he held her body still. "Apollina … I - I _need _you."

She tried to wriggle out from underneath him. "No. No. No. No," she chanted loudly, hoping he would at least hear one of them. He licked a stripe down her collarbone and sucked at the skin underneath it, pushing the huge peplos with its large neck, down one arm until it bared a breast. "_Stop!_" He searched for the flat nipple with his mouth and it hardened traitorously under his care, beginning to smart almost immediately, he had to haul her upwards a bit so that he didn't have to bend down so far, but once anchored he let his hands explore. "I don't want to do -" she gasped as his hand slid down a stomach that was still a little round despite the weight she had lost, grasped at her coltish legs, circled back up to her knees and then came to rest heavily on the apex of her thighs. She didn't even know what to call it, Andromache had called it her 'place,' she had once overheard one of her brothers reading a poem where it was called a 'blossom.' A very adult poem that is.

Then he was trying to get his fingers into her - 'blossom'- and she bucked away from him. "Shh," he repeated as he used his other hand to still her thrashing. "The more you panic the more it'll hurt … I need to get you ready."

The only word that registered was the word 'hurt.' With so many sisters getting married off all the time she had managed to listen in or be occasionally privy to some vague information about what would happen when you lay with a man. It would hurt. You would bleed, squeal like a stuck pig. And then you would have a baby. However, the bleeding was essential; if you didn't bleed then you and your family would be disgraced. Husbands did not, after all, want damaged goods. Her dread escalated until she was screaming, calling - begging - for someone -anyone- to come help her.

His fingers did something. Slid. Plunged. _Squelched_. And she was struck dumb. It was like the other time, the time when he put his lips … But this throb was nothing like the first throb. This throb was deeper, harder, and just kept growing and growing until she couldn't tell … anything... Someone could have asked her what her name was and she sincerely wouldn't have known what a name was even for. The peak continued to get bigger and the pulses all over her thumped erratically until she was quivering and couldn't tell one from another … they just became one … big … blur.

Then she fell, and it _hurt_.

There was no wounds, no blood, not even any pain but it had hurt somehow. It had felt too … _much_ to not have hurt. She finally opened her eyes and unclenched her teeth to see Achilles panting down on her face with the eyes of a satisfied predator. She wanted to tell him that it hurt, that she felt strange and wrong and confused because there was something … dripping out of her. She would even suffer some ghastly tonic or poultice if it would stop that uncomfortably warm flutter in her suddenly lax body.

"I want to go home," she rasped.

He flinched.

"When can I go home?" she repeated.

"Never," he spat out, wanting to hurt her for ruining this, for hurting him like this when it had been so good between them. Going so god damned well. Didn't he take care of her? Feed her? _Spoil her_? Other captives of war, even bloody Princesses, would be nothing more then slaves or concubines. Jeered at and made to amuse their owners with talk of their old opulent lives and then excused to go sleep on a floor somewhere after having serviced their master in anyway he pleased. _She _dined as well as he did; slept where he did, spoke back to him for gods' sake!

Maybe that was where he was going wrong … She didn't think of herself as nothing less then a kidnapped Princess and he had never really told her otherwise. Even if he had made gestures of her new position in his life, he had quickly ruined them by doting over her and letting her do as she pleased.

It would have been so easy. To pin her down and glut on her beautiful body, rut on it and just imagine that she was willing. Turn her pushes into pulls, her screams into moans and her dryness into wet, moist, _welcoming _heat.

"I want my brother," Apollina keened pushing at his neck to force his face away from hers.

_He _wanted her. Ached for her. Throbbed for her.

But he wanted her to want him too. To call for him instinctively when she was in trouble. To cry for him at night - to love him above _all _others.

"He can't have you. You're mine. _Mine_." He held her tightly to him despite her screams and didn't let go even when she scratched at him and whacked at his chest with her little fists. Eventually she gave up and cried herself to sleep.

Her calls for Hector were louder and more plaintive tonight, which only made him grip harder and whisper into her hair. "He can't have you," he repeated, "none of them can. You're mine."

As if she had heard him she moaned out the word "no" in her sleep.

AN: Was the warning necessary? Or was I being a dweeb? Oh and did you like the whole 'place' and 'blossom' thing. I know some of you might be thinking, come on, that innocent? But remember people, totally different times. It's a period of arranged marriages, where women didn't have as much freedom as they do now. Back then to be pure, to have no knowledge of sex was considered something to be commended highly. Remember Hippolytus. And all those women who changed into trees or killed themselves rather then be raped, even by handsome gods … especially by Apollo for some reason. And Apollina is a Princess, practically a bargaining tool that would help them gain an ally, she'd be guarded to make sure her little ears are unsullied and that pesky hymen stays intact.


	12. Imbros

AN: Finally changed the story summary to something that I'm happier with. Not happiest, but happier. Oh well …

* * *

**Imbros**

Agamemnon really wanted to hurt someone. He had just come out of a visit with the Prophet he had brought along with him to this infernal city and it had not gone as planned. He had gone for answers, a cure for the change in Achilles, a way to rouse the sleeping beast. All he had gotten was … '_wait_.' The man apparently had a one on one link to the all mighty Athena herself and all he had gotten from the goddess was _'wait'_? Agamemnon half missed the winding riddles Prophets usually came out with … maybe his prophet was broken …

Odysseus had called his anxiety pointless, Achilles was in a better mood then any had ever seen him, which meant he behaved during long tedious meetings without insulting anyone or calling Agamemnon out to fight, and although they weren't exactly winning the war they weren't loosing it either. Hector was still pilling up the body count but a new hero had stepped up in the Greek camp, one that had been hidden behind Achilles' blinding light. Young Diomedes had found his feet and was earning quite the reputation as a warrior, just yesterday he and Odysseus had ambushed King Rhesus's camp, killing everyone and coming back with glossy white stallions and a lordly silver and gold chariot he had taken for himself. The horses too, after all, the chariot and the horses _were _a matched pair. It would be a pity to separate them.

The boy - Diomedes - was impressive, but no Achilles. He could strut, train and strut again for all of eternity but he just didn't have it in him. Others may question Agamemnon's leadership, may question his skills, but Agamemnon _excelled _in reading people. He knew who could help him succeed and who would only hinder his success. He had known with one look where the fifteen-year-old boy he had taken from under his harpy mother's wings fell. Within that glowering peacock, he had seen the eyes of a vicious animal, and though his early attempts at leashing the beast had proven to be suicidal, he had learnt. One bitten, twice shy after all.

They just didn't make men like that anymore.

Diomedes, at twenty-one, was nothing, no one compared to the teenaged horror he had routinely set free on the nations he had wanted to conquer. There wasn't the same fire, the same passion. _The death wish. _Secretly, Agamemnon thought it was all that talk about being a demi-god, maybe it had gotten to Achilles' head, the boy was reckless, fearless. Diomedes wasn't.

Everyone seemed to have forgotten about the prophecies too, it was _Achilles _who would win them the war, _not _Diomedes; there were no prophecies about _him_. But the men's lagging moral had been boosted by their new hero's success, so Agamemnon suffered the pup's bragging.

He was more concerned about Achilles anyway, the boy had given him more grey hairs and sleepless nights then any of his soldiers combined, and his sudden cheery disposition only served to set Agamemnon's teeth on edge. His decision to gift him the Trojan Princess just might ruin them, but no one dared do anything about it. Achilles had made his possessiveness over her clear, she was coddled and pampered, secreted away like a Virgin Priestess, and even the more rowdy of the soldiers didn't dare approach her for fear of Achilles. He followed her around the camp like a kicked puppy and played house with her in that tent of theirs.

Agamemnon had suggested taking her away from him.

Odysseus had asked him to do it.

He had balked.

~X~

He shook his head as Diomedes recounted his exploits once again to his eager audience, every time the boy spoke of the dangers he had been in, the tale got more and more exaggerated.

Achilles was sure that the next time would include Goddesses.

"I don't remember that bit. They were all sleeping, we just stuck our swords in them one by one," Odysseus remarked with an easy grin as he sat down beside Achilles to listen to Diomedes' ramblings. Achilles managed a bitter chuckle and then took the goblet of wine his friend held out, knocked it all back in one swallow and grimaced as the dregs slithered on his tongue. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he muttered darkly, throwing the goblet down onto the sandy floor.

"Come now, for the past three months you've been wandering around like someone killed your mother - has someone-"

"No."

"Then what?"

Achilles stayed mulishly silent but Odysseus kept pressing the issue so he finally barked, "Nothing. Just problems."

"… With the girl?" Odysseus asked lightly.

Achilles' silence was answer enough. Three months. It had been three months since she had smiled, talked or even looked at him. And this wasn't the girlish cold-shoulder she had subjected him to on prior occasions, which although had annoyed him after a while he had found rather adorable, this was her withdrawing into herself and refusing to come out. She watched him warily and recoiled if he came too close, ate what he put in front of her without her usual haughty disdain and lay stiffly in bed at night. She was _afraid, _and it was torturing him. He missed her so badly that he regretted touching her at all, and hadn't dared lay a hand on her since.

"_Women_!" Odysseus attempted to mollify, but Achilles remained distant. Diomedes had now begun to recount the story of how he had saved Nestor from "certified _doom_." Odysseus guffawed, "Oh someone has been practicing, eh? That's what I _loved _about you … you left the bragging to everyone else." Achilles continued to remain surly and mute. "Oh for the love of - _I_ know what you need-"

"I don't need another woman." The answer shot out of him without thought, silencing them both.

After an uncomfortable moment where Odysseys studied him with his shrewd brown eyes, then shrugged and laughed it off. "I didn't mean company - though that is a good idea - I was going to suggest getting back into the thick of things … Like you used to."

Now it was Achilles' turn to laugh it off. "I didn't know that I was out of the thick of anything."

Odysseus' smiling face turned serious in a blink. "You know what I mean. You're not like before, you've changed a lot. _On _and _off _the field, and the men … they're worried."

"They have Diomedes," Achilles said with a nod at the swaggering boy.

Odysseus ignored that comment. "Don't you miss it?" Achilles didn't reply. "You must. A few months ago, they were all slavering for _your _attention and now you've been cast aside for some young buck you could finish with a blunt sword and your stronger arm tied behind your back. You _must _miss it."

But the truth of it, the glorious truth was that he didn't. Sure, his vanity stung every now and then, but otherwise there was absolutely nothing. And he felt _great_. Everyone had always used words like 'born to end lives' or 'bred for killing' to describe him and he had grown to believe it himself, had nurtured the belief that this was what he was good at. That if he ever lost this then that would be the end of him, because he had one purpose and one purpose only. And what was a man without a purpose.

But here he was.

Purposeless.

Happy.

"Things aren't what they were yesterday," Achilles replied mystically. Life had new meaning. Being a soldier had been demoted to a much lower ranking, there were things that were more important. He had enough of being the best soldier; there was no glory in that after all, just death. Now, he just wanted to be the best _everything _to her. After all, who cared what thousands of men he didn't really know, thought about him?

"Apparently yesterdays have been the same for you for the last _three months_," muttered Odysseus, head turned carefully away from Achilles. Achilles shot him a black look, "I'm sorry … I just wanted to tell you that there is to be a raid - nearby, in Imbros. Just routine, no hassle, Agamemnon will insist that you go, maybe it'll do you some good if you agree this time." Achilles wasn't interested. "Do her some good too … Absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that."

He agreed so quickly and so strongly that Odysseus looked taken aback.

~X~

Agamemnon whisked by on his brand new silver and gold chariot with its matching white horses. He had just received news that the rest of the raiders he had sent to Imbros were back and he was going to greet them in person. The first half had been sent a while ago. Imbros, a fierce ally of Troy, had put up a tough fight, and the first group of men he had sent had failed to bring back nothing more then bruises and the tally of their dead comrades. In disgust, he had dispatched more men, including Achilles. He really had to give that wily tongued devil more credit, Odysseus had been most reluctant at the idea of being used against his friend but even he agreed that the war could not be won without Achilles back to his usual strength.

And back he was. That limp dolt, Nireus, had come bumbling back with his men the first time, blaming weather and bad omens and the sun glinting in his eyes but had informed him that everything was now taken care of. Achilles had swept in and torn down their defences as if they were made off _wool _and brought them all to heel before the sun had even set. Nireus had assured him that Achilles had not lost his knack for killing; in fact, he was just as good as ever, even spoke down to the dignitaries like before and threatened to kill a few people every few hours.

Even their own men.

Back to normal.

He stopped smartly outside Achilles tent and had someone help him down from the _bloody _high thing, took a moment to straighten out his new gold armour with ruby inlays and then marched jauntily to where the men had gathered. The men parted to let him through.

"What in the _blazes_!" he cursed in shock. That girl! That devilish, impudent little she-dog was crying and hanging onto Achilles as if she was afraid he might melt away. And Achilles? Well, that _ass _was stroking her red cheeks and her mop of lopsided black hair reverently, wiping away tears as he _cooed _reassurances in her ear. He shot Odysseus a grateful grin and then carried the sniffling bundle inside.

They didn't come back out all day.

"What did you do!" he shouted at Odysseus who looked just as flabbergasted as him. "You imbecile! You've ruined everything!"

Odysseus winced, "I didn't think it was going to work."

~X~

"Apollina, I'm sorry," she was still teary, still hanging onto him and he couldn't stop grinning. He had only been gone for a week and although he felt bad about the state that he found her in he couldn't stop beaming like a fool either. It just felt so _good_. She was sobbing and for once, it was for him rather then because of him. "Shhh now," he crooned as he stroked back her curly hair, it had gotten a smidge longer, "I made sure that you were safe didn't I? I had people keep an eye on you." Nestor had agreed enthusiastically.

"I - thought - I -" she hiccupped, "was - going to - be given to - someone else." The thought made her cry harder and the hiccoughs got louder.

He remembered the threat he had used on her to get her to give him a reaction and regretted doing so now. With a sorry coo, he drew her closer to his side and kissed the top of her sweaty head promising her all the while that that would never happen.

She hadn't spoken much after that, just watched him with drained eyes until he closed his and feigned sleep. She didn't sleep the whole night; Achilles knew she was afraid he might leave her again.

He'd never smiled harder in his life.

~X~

For a few days she watched him warily, waiting for him to up and disappear again but when that didn't happen she was back to her usual flouncing self. He had missed her so much these last three months that he dragged her along with him wherever he went, she put up with it for a while before calling him boring and snubbing him for Nestor. Who was, of course, vats of fun.

He made the rather stupid mistake of once again acting before thinking things over when he handed her a pretty coiled necklace with a pale pink stone in the shape of a half moon. She had loved it and had fingered the whimsical pink moon with a grin, then he made the mistake of telling her it was from the temple of Selene in Imbros, her smile had faltered. With a start, he had remembered that Troy and Imbros were allies and practically neighbours too. But she had worn it and thanked him docilely, which in itself told him she was upset. He got the notion that she didn't want to fight with him, maybe didn't want to risk him leaving her.

Nevertheless, two days later the necklace was abandoned and left on the floor on one of the many mounds for him to find. He picked it up, navigated carefully through her little sand empire and added it to her growing pile of trinkets, all gifts from him.

~X~

She was humming a little ditty he didn't recognise, plonked on the ground, adding to her kingdom while he listened from the bed. By now, they barely had anywhere to walk, but Achilles didn't have the courage to break the fragile peace by asking her to stop.

He settled back on the bed to sleep, travel weary eyes snapping shut but had hardly got them closed when the quilt was pulled away abruptly and a small shivering body jumped on top of his chest knocking the wind out of him. In surprise, he looked down at the girl in his arms, who was trying to settle herself on him the way he usually held her. Sand from her feet dusted off and coated his legs and the bed.

His silence at the fact that he had noticed that she had made the first move was making her pull away from him self-consciously. "Apollina, I told you to wipe your feet before you get in!" he moaned dramatically making her grumble and turn her nose up at him but she stopped pulling away and let Achilles find a comfortable spot on his body for her. He even saw her try to curb a

smile.

* * *

AN: Get ready for a pity party. I have to admit I'm loosing the will to continue this. Which is sad because I've actually finished typing the entire story. I don't … I'm not threatening for reviews but I just … it feels like I haven't done such a good job with this story.

Or maybe it's because I've had this urge to write Rogan fics and can't seem to summon any enthusiasm for this one, let alone anything else. I don't know.

Anyway, check out my Rogan fics, I have been assured that they're HAWT. Which is a cool way to say that they are very adult and deal with controversial topics.


	13. The Birth of a Champion

**The Birth of a Champion**

When Ajax came running into his tent they had been awake. Talking. She wanted to know all sorts of things. Why he had been named Achilles. How all the other rumours came to be. What his home was like. What his mother was like. He would have taken it as a sign of affection had he not had to answer her other questions as well. What had been the weirdest thing he ate, whether a man can die of fright and what he would name himself if he suddenly woke up and found himself to be a woman. Ceas for her - if she woke as a man, he had been advised to choose Polyxena, whom she assured him was very beautiful. Then she grew sullen for a while and he had had to apologise again for Zeus knew what.

So when Ajax arrived he jumped to his feet quickly and Apollina stretched the word "no!" to epic proportions. Alarmed at her tone, Ajax spun around in the candle lit darkness and, with all the finesse of a enraged bull, just about crushed every single one of her little mounds. She wailed like the bewildered Ajax had killed her first born.

"What are you two still doing here?" shouted Odysseus through the door way. "I told you to go get him immediately not stand there _dancing _you great, big _lummox_!"

Apollina promptly blubbered that she abhorred Ajax and then asked Achilles so imploringly to kill him in vengeance that he was actually a little ready to consent.

"People!" screamed Odysseus, "We are under _bloody _attack!"

"What?" Achilles asked worriedly as he searched for his discarded breastplate. "I didn't hear anything."

"They're up near Ajax's camp." Ah, right up on the other side. "And if we don't get going _ladies_, they'll set fire to _all _the ships!"

He found his sword underneath the bed but couldn't find the sheath, Apollina had been playing with it earlier; filling it with sand and spinning so fast that sand flew everywhere - including their bed and his eyes, but he decided that this wasn't the time to look. His spear was leaning against the side wall. Patrolocus stuck his head in, asking Achilles what he should do. "Get in here. You'll be staying here with her - are you armed? Good. If you think they're coming this way then you take her, get a horse and flee up the mountains. Wait there and I'll come for you." Patrolocus bristled but nodded, Ajax left to join the fight and Odysseus grumbled for him to hurry. He ignored him and pulled the rug off the bed and covered Apollina's shoulders. She was shaking - eyes wide, breaths coming in jerky pants, looking out the door longingly.

Achilles had long ago forgotten that she was a Trojan and he, a Greek. She, his unwilling captive and he, her owner. But obviously she still hadn't.

Things had been going so well between them … he cursed Hector for his timing, wondering whether it was better to kill the troublesome bastard after all.

"They'll kill you," he whispered gently to her, afraid to spook her but afraid not to as well. "You won't find him among the _thousands_, and someone will accidentally kill you in the dark thinking you're another soldier, or a Greek girl. They'll be arrows and spears flying around at random, men on horses charging up and down. The Trojans are here to kill anything on our side that moves … _they'll kill you_." He didn't know how much had gotten through but Odysseus' beseeching had gotten beyond rude by now, he really had to go.

He took Patrolocus to the side before he went, "if she tries to leave … promise me. Swear on my life, on the love I have for you as a cousin, that you will stop her."

Patrolocus did.

~X~

Six of Ajax's ships, two of Thoas' and five of Idomeneus' had been lost, now they were nothing but black char, and some fifteen ships tethered nearby had suffered some form of damage. Everyone stood there bewailing the destruction and cursing the amount of work that lay ahead of them, Achilles left them to it and hurried back to his tent.

He thundered in to the sight of Patrolocus and Apollina sitting on the floor, amidst the ruined sand kingdom, huddled against each other. Patrolocus was stroking her back - Achilles' jaw clenched. Apollina pulled a little away from Patrolocus and held her shaking arms out to him, asking dolefully to be held. Achilles snapped of the hard breastplate, threw it down vehemently, and jerked her out of his cousin's grasp.

His rather handsome cousin with his approachable, lovable demeanour and his always ready smile. The one who had risked his own life to free her from the big, bad Achilles.

He sat down on the bed, folded her into him, wrapping her trailing legs around his waist and soothed her distressed nerves by petting her hair and her back. Patrolocus looked stunned, no doubt the boy had been expecting whippings in-between the depraved sexual foreplay. Achilles looked pointedly at the door and watched him leave.

She wanted to ask. So badly wanted to ask him if he had seen her brother but was forcibly holding it in. He hadn't, but Diomedes had. The lad was crowing over the incident right now outside Agamemnon's tent, he had wounded Hector and sent the Trojan's into a tizzy. Hector had had to be ridden back to Troy by Sarpedon, and the Trojans had retreated soon after. If she did ask, and if he had seen Hector, he would have still said that he hadn't. He didn't want her to regret listening to him. Let her think that the task of finding one man amidst a battle was impossible and never dare try.

"K - kiss me …" she breathed pathetically into his tear stained chest. Achilles needed no further encouragement, he didn't want to question the whys.

He kissed her tentatively, tenderly, getting ready to pull back if she so much as dreamt that she wanted to stop. He pressed his lips against hers delicately, placed butterfly kisses from one corner of her mouth to the other and gently let her open under him. Her mouth was dry, but he was moist enough for the both of them, and the first cautious stroke of his tongue on hers made them shiver.

He would regret it but he had to ask, didn't ever want to go through another three months of silence again, felt certain that the next time that happened it would be permanent. "Do you want me to stop?" he mumbled huskily. Her eyes were wide with wonder and she couldn't seem to get them off his mouth, she shook her head and Achilles rejoiced.

They kissed for hours, learning each other, hesitantly touching tongues until their mouths hurt and her eyes closed unwillingly.

~X~

Agamemnon wanted to know the name of the god who was making it their personal mission to ruin his life. He had a feeling it was Apollo. This just wasn't _fair_.

The men had been on such a high after Hector's injury, _finally _some proof that the man bled, that someone besides Achilles could wound the Trojan prince. They had clamoured to get back on the battlefield and Nestor, who parroted on about Diomedes ever since the boy had saved his eldest son from Sarpedon, subsequently dubbed him the young Heracles.

Diomdes and his ever growing ego had waded into the battlefield with an even bigger spring in his step and was now back with none at all.

Because he was dead.

Dead men couldn't walk much less _spring _all over the place after all. And the day had started so well as well. Hector had been absent from the previous two battles, due to his injury probably, and the Greeks, led by Diomedes, had pushed the Trojans back to their gates repeatedly. Then Hector had come out, injury still fresh enough to hinder his movements, and bayed for Diomedes' blood.

Agamemnon had screamed at Odysseus to leg lock that puffed up pigeon and drag him forcibly back to his camp if he had to, but Diomedes had already gone rushing out to meet Hector, chest thrown out and strutting as he walked. Agamemnon knew how it would end, the men just couldn't see it yet, they cheered for their _Heracles _and looked ever so shocked when they finally did.

_See_! This was why _he _was King, this was why _he _led the war. Men could only measure greatness when the two met in the middle and stood still long enough for it to be calculated. He could do so with the two in separate parts of the world.

Even injured, Hector was too much for the young pup to handle, and a little while into the battle Diomedes figured it out as well. Every theatrically dramatic swing missed, every gloating remark was ignored and every spear was deflected. Fear bubbled in his young blue eyes and he turned and ran. The Greeks, shamed by their so called Heracles' cowardice, bowed their heads and turned away from the sight of Hector slicing the boy in the thigh and plunging his spear through his chest to silence his screams for his mother and help. In that order.

They barely came out of the ensuing skirmish with their lives.

"What do we do now?" Odysseus asked him with an ashen face.

Menalaus had also been invited to the conference out of respect but he had never had any interest for the political side of things so he was eating and listening to them half heartedly. Agamemnon noted his younger brother's half finished plate and signalled for the stationed slave girl to refill it. Nestor's boys had come back with some fine cattle from Samothrace and Menelaus had always loved beef. She filled it to the brim with glistening strips of braised beef as Agamemnon refilled the boy's goblet. Menalaus grunted his thanks.

"_We _can do nothing - _you _on the other hand can," Agamemnon barked, irritated.

"Me?" Odysseus replied, eyes narrowing warily.

"Yes. Half the reason why the men loved Achilles is because I hate him, and if I warm up to our new champion then they'll shun him too. You, on the other hand, are one of them. They'll love whoever you tell them to love."

"You're going to what - _make _a champion?"

"Exactly." Odysseus looked dubious. "What the men need is morale and what we need is time. Achilles _will _be back but what we need until he is, is someone for the men to believe in, someone to fill his shoes and keep them going out to fight with a smile." Menalaus coughed on his beef, Agamemnon thumped his back and handed him a goblet of wine to drink.

"And who will this champion be?"

That was a tough one. Who should they choose? Someone dim-witted enough to believe himself special, someone who would preen and prance at the men's attentions, letting them drink and feast in his name and go back to sleep drunk and happy.

"How about Ajax, brother?" Menalaus offered with a greasy frown. Agamemnon pulled out a gold embroidered piece of cloth and offered it to him to wipe his shiny mouth.

"Ajax?" Agamemnon pondered the idea. He was big, believable as a champion, loved his wine and was gullible, the only problem was that he was also a good friend of Odysseus, who looked reluctant. "All he's going to do is be praised and honoured for what he is already doing anyway. Nothing is going to happen to the man!" he scowled. Odysseus paced the hall in thought then finally nodded in confirmation.

"And how will you do this - make him a champion?"

"I will send Ajax out to Lesbos with you, Odysseus, on a raid. When you come back just spread word of all his achievements there and make sure to exaggerate them all. Pretty soon word will spread and some wine loving idiot will throw a feast in his honour. And in the next battle they'll be noting every man he kills and embellishing them for us."

"Just like that?" Odysseus asked, he looked staggered. Men were so surprised when he came up with an idea, how did they think he got this far in life?

"Just like that." Agamemnon's smirk was assured, confident. He had learnt from hard experience to keep things simple. Less things go wrong, and if it did, the mess was easier to clean up.

"Can I go, brother? On the raid with Ajax and Odysseus?" asked Menalaus, his beard tinged red with spilled wine.

Agamemnon frowned and handed him a new cloth, "if you go who will help me manage the Trojan's here." Menalaus looked put out but nodded. "When the Trojan's become easier to manage I will spare you and let you go wherever you please. I can't do this without you Menalaus, you know that."

~X~

The plan worked. A week later Ajax was the rooster among the chickens and clucked around his hen house accordingly. Morale was back up and men stopped wailing for their wives and instead began arguing over the women that Ajax had _almost _single handed won for them from Lesbos.

But he knew that Ajax wouldn't last, he just wasn't good enough, wasn't Achilles.

He still had no idea how to fix that matter though.

AN: Okay, I'll listen, guess I'll continue this after all. And I'd like to thank all the people who reviewed asking me to continue it. This chapter is for you.


	14. Learning To Fly

**Learning To Fly**

She finished fixing up the last mound, studied it critically, and satisfied, got to her feet. Side stepped the one with a river crossing through it, carefully edged round the one that would need more water to hold it up soon and jumped over the big one in the centre with the newly improved fortress that Patrolocus had helped her build.

The _chink chink _of swords called out to her and she pushed the flap aside and stepped out to see Achilles and Patrolocus training. Patrolocus had been ecstatic about finally having moved onto real weapons and had gloated over it for _days _until Apollina had forbidden him to even so much as speak to her about anything -_anything_- till her sore ears stopped bleeding. Achilles had found it highly amusing and had only laughed harder and called her his pampered princess when she had ordered him to stop yapping.

The sun shone down on his armoured torso setting off the colour of his golden arms perfectly. Patrolocus lunged at him with his spear, Achilles side stepped it and praised him for his steady gait.

"Good. But everything has to be a kill shot, remember that, you aim with the intention to make it count," he critiqued. He looked up at the sun, measuring how much time had passed and satisfied look back down at his cousin. "Time to finish. I want you to do laps, with the equipment, then go and eat."

"But cousin," protested Patrolocus with a tired groan.

Achilles acquiesced easily, "fine, go eat."

Patrolocus straightened, "actually, I'll do the laps." Achilles watched him go with a frown on his face then walked towards her.

Things had been a little strange between them for a while after the kiss. After that wonderful kiss that left her feeling like butterflies were being born in her stomach and fluttering towards her heart. It was everything Polyxena had said it would be, no wonder she'd always had that dreamy look on her face whenever she remembered the handsome young goatherd she had met when she'd been younger. But even his kisses couldn't have surpassed the ones Achilles had been giving her. It was just not possible.

He smiled at her and tugged at the braid he had plaited in her hair as they entered the tent together.

"I see your empire is shipshape again?"

She scowled, "I still think the old one was better, but Patrolocus helped me with the walls, and tomorrow he said he'd help me stick shells on it. Pretty white and pink ones."

He stifled a chuckle and nodded, "that's nice." He had long since noticed that there wasn't anything to worry about on that front, Apollina treated Patrolocus like an annoying brother she had to put up with, chirping around him when she was bored then throwing things at him when he bored her. Patrolocus seemed to find vast amounts of amusement in vexing her, causing her already fragile temper to crack whenever he made fun of her spindly little legs or her boy-like flat chest, but that was only when he wasn't chasing the busty red headed slave girl that Ajax had procured from Lesbos.

"Can we kiss again?" she asked boldly with an impish grin and red cheeks. He had let her be the one to instigate things, to make her feel safe and knew now that this is what he should have done from the beginning.

She could see that he wanted more, he would stop mid kiss and pace the room sometimes with a clenched jaw or look at her with eyes that she remembered seeing on him before a lot. Eyes that had frightened her then but now … the intensity in them was kind of … exciting.

She couldn't deny that he was handsome, far handsomer than all the paintings of heroes in her father's palace, even handsomer, though it felt like blasphemy and she would have to pray for forgiveness later, then the statues of the gods at the temple. And he was in love with her - her!

She had no illusions about her beauty, not like Polyxena, who often had to pray to Aphrodite for forgiveness for being too vain, for thinking too much of herself and thinking too less of everyone else. And despite Hector spoiling her rotten and Andromache secretly telling her that she was far more beautiful then Polyxena, and that the reason why Polyxena always had to speak of her beauty is because she knew it too, Apollina knew she wasn't all that much to look at. She was too short, too skinny; not voluptuous like her sisters and Helen, with unfashionably black hair, strange eyes and knobbly knees. And Achilles liked _her_.

He grinned back at her and she helped him off with his heavy armour and then they both lay down on the bed together, side by side. It was nice kissing laying down, she didn't have to strain up to meet his lips and he didn't have to bend down to meet hers. Plus her legs didn't go all weak and wobbly when they were on the bed. Well, they did, but now she wouldn't fall down and make him laugh at her.

He encircled her waist and hauled her closer then licked her earlobe, she giggled and made a face and wiped the saliva off on his chest. When she lay down to do so however, she was captivated by the quickly increasing _boom boom _of his heart.

"Did you eat?" he inquired softly, kissing the top of her bent head.

"Yup." She kept her head there and tugged his head down, it was an awkward position for him but she could hear the slight speeding of the _booms _when his lips touched hers. That was nice too. He grazed over her mouth and then nudged it open, touched the tip of her tongue with his own and then pulled back.

"Everything?"

She looked evasive, "most." He sighed, she had been dropping weight again after the men had brought back nothing but a haul of fish, and with winter fast approaching he was beginning to worry. "All they had was fish. And it still had eyes! But I ate everything else."

"And what exactly was everything else?"

"_I _want to _kiss_."

"And we will. After you tell me what exactly you ate." Angry now she made to flounce off him but Achilles pulled her back and conceded defeat. "Alright you win, I surrender, go on, kiss me and get it over with."

Her snappish look melted away at his words and she broke into amused laughter - then she kissed him, and, like always, he forgot everything else. It stayed playful for a while, they rolled about and tickled each other, he left wet patches all over her face, making her scream bloody murder, but then she decided to give him the same punishment. And he couldn't stop himself.

When her hot, moist mouth licked at the skin on his neck he lost the control he had strictly adhered to ever since she had first kissed him, and arched into her, rubbing himself desperately against her. He pulled her face upwards and attacked her surprised mouth with decadent kisses, forcing her mouth wider so he could plunge inside, nip her lip and suckle wantonly at her pink tongue. She let out a surprised moan that quivered just this side of passion. Emboldened, he left a wet streak of soft love bites from the start of her neck to the top of her chest and bit at the straining nipple through the cloth. Trying to pull the damn thing off her one way or another with frantic hands. She arched, giving him more to feast on, letting him lick at the cloth, wetting it enough to feel the shape of her nipple a little better. He finally pushed the dress down her shoulders to bare a bit of breast, if he pushed the round little globe high up enough he could just about see her nipple. His tongue snaked under the cloth looking for the brown nub and latched onto it with a satisfied groan that made him slump into her. His other hand began to ruck her dress up her knees.

"It feels different," came a tiny shaky whisper from under him.

Sensing this was important he stopped with some effort, shaking his head to clear out the craving for her that felt so similar to blood lust, and just as addicting. "Di - different?"

She nodded shakily. "It felt strange when you did that before - wrong. It hurt here," she pointed to the lower part of her stomach with a finger that quivered.

His voice got lower, "and how does it feel now?"

She didn't notice his tone, just glazed out as she thought about the answer. "I don't know, it just doesn't feel wrong." For a while he didn't say anything, just stared down at her with a feverish fond look that he couldn't hide. How in Hades' name did he get so lucky? "Are you going to - to continue?"

He inhaled sharply, "yes."

~X~

It _was _different. She couldn't really explain it any better then that. He did the same things that he had did before but it just felt _right_. His tongue streaked across her naked chest to her other breast making the wet skin pimple in the cold. He latched on and tugged hard causing her to thrash wildly, hair flying in all directions. "Please!" a different urging from last time - this time not to stop.

He groaned into her chest and came back up to kiss her dry, open mouth, wetting it. He nudged her knees a little wider and shifted closer, straining towards that hot, wet heat guarded by little black curls. When his fingers trailed towards it, she tensed and Achilles paused to grip her chin and turn her face towards him. "This bit won't hurt … I know it felt like it did, but it's a good feeling. Relax … you'll see." She nodded after a pause and he slid his fingers closer. She was still tense but the _throb throb _came back even harder then before and soon the clenching intensified which only made the pulses go mad.

His fingers slid over her opening. A hard clench made her gasp.

It was going to hurt again. She didn't want to do it. She pulled at his golden hair and his glassy, lust riddled eyes slid into focus at her frightened look. He smiled, putting her at ease, and cuddled her to him cooing encouragements into her ear as his fingers slicked through her wetness to ready her.

"Ever so beautiful," he crooned huskily, she panicked as a long finger pressed into her, it felt uncomfortable and huge. "The most _adorable _thing I have seen in _all _my life." The finger slid deeper and she instinctively bucked to dislodge it - it went a little further. "Shhh Princess, you'll hurt yourself. _Relax_."

Seemingly satisfied by what he did down there he shifted in-between her legs and lined himself up. Apollina didn't dare look down lest what little courage she had left fled as well. Achilles wasn't shy, he paraded in no clothes in front of her all the time. It barely seemed to bother him, but it had bothered her and she had made sure to keep her eyes averted or fixed on something up high. She had gotten glimpses of it, glimpses that she couldn't help but see, she didn't know whether it was big compared to other mens' but it was big enough to worry her. "I didn't fall," she told him in a panic, _was he doing this right?_

He looked confused at her choice of words then he chuckled and kissed her trembling chin. "Not until I'm inside you. You're too sensitive … but I'll make sure you - _fall _- a lot once you get used to it."

"Oh … thank you." _Was that a good thing_?

He shifted her around a bit, searching for an angle, placed her legs a little wider apart, kissed her lips tenderly, warmly, then pressed in.

And it _hurt_. Hurt worse then anything she had ever experienced in her life. Hurt almost as much as the time she had fallen off Cleon's horse. This couldn't be natural! Why would the gods make her 'blossom' so small if his 'blossom' had to get inside?

"_OW_!" she screamed as he slid a little deeper, feeling betrayed.

He pulled his head down next to her ears, "_I know_. I know it hurts and I'm sorry … _I love you _and-" he grunted as he plunged deeper making her cry out and buck wildly, sending him deeper still. "Shhh," he soothed with a strained voice, "relax Princess, it'll only hurt this one time. And then it'll feel good. _I promise_."

How could he still be going? She couldn't be that deep!

"Stop!" she cried instinctively.

He moaned and kissed her jaw in apology, pressed close to her, sticky with sweat, and then pulled back. It hurt as he pulled out too, hurt every time he moved, and hurt when he didn't. A tear rolled into her ear canal and she wondered why people did this at all? It was horrible.

"Sto-" _Oh Gods! _The clench was back, a dull throb that flared into life when he moved his thumb over her down there and suckled at her abandoned breast. The clenching in her lower stomach helped distract her from the pain so she focused on it and found, to her joy, that she wasn't in as much agony as before. It still hurt, _god it hurt_, but something seemed to be coming through the pain. Something nice.

He was moving faster into her, groaning and grunting, open lips huffing on a wet, distended brown nipple that tightened again at the breath leaving his mouth, as if straining to be back inside there.

She whined and arched upwards trying to reach that something that was heading towards her, it was just beyond the corner, she didn't know what it would be but knew she needed it. Craved it.

Achilles lifted himself onto his arms and Apollina missed his searing heat immediately, she reached out to pull him down by the face but he evaded her groggy grasps and kissed her hands instead. Then he sunk into her, fast - sending a rippling motion that surpassed the pain it caused throughout the whole of her body, his exit did the same, and when he repeated it - she flew.

It was an explosion of colours that proved too much for her to bare, she clenched her eyes shut and savoured the ripple that moved under her very skin, uncurling her and leaving her feeling languid, boneless - _right_.

Next to her ear Achilles whispered a moan just for her to hear, bucked a few more times into her, making her shift uncomfortably at how sensitive she now felt, gasped, swore, and then collapsed.

Apollina thought he might be flying too.

They didn't do anything for a while, just waited till the colours in the backs of their eyes faded and their breathing returned to normal, she stroked his back, smiling at the way he arched into her touch like a cat. Then Achilles pulled himself up onto shaky arms and extricated himself from her as gently as possible, his white seed trickling back out onto her thigh. He fell to his side and pulled her carefully into his arms, kissing her deeply, tongue thrusting inside, no permission needed now, that boundary had been crossed.

~X~

"Eudorus, start packing. We're leaving," Achilles took a deep breath as he watched the sun rise out of the sea, already missing his bed and the woman in it.

Eudorus' mouth dropped open, "my lord?"

"I want to set sail by the end of the month, be back home before the winter hits hard - so hurry."

"But - but the war?"

Achilles raised his brow and Eudorus rushed off, rousing men and giving out orders.

* * *

AN: How was it? I'm rather happy with the sex scene but I'll wait for your approval and see what you all think, tell me in reviews lol. Long ones :)


	15. The Road Not Taken

**The Road Not Taken**

"Patrolocus my lad," Agamemnon said as he welcomed him into his tent with gusto, clapping the boy around the shoulders and pulling him inside.

Patrolocus hovered edgily and gave him a perfunctory smile straight after a low bow. "You called for me, my lord."

"Well … no - I asked for Achilles but I was told he was - indisposed at the moment … but then I remembered that he trains you - has for _years_."

Patrolocus looked politely confused. Agamemnon knew he wasn't as talented in this as Odysseus, but he didn't dare trust that Ithacan with this matter, he had to fumble through this alone. "I wanted your help - or rather, Achilles' opinions through _your _mouth."

He walked the boy over to the many maps that had been spread out on the vast table and the little gold and silver pieces that signified Greeks and Trojans. Interspaced their talk with a few mentions about glory, and honour, and duty. And it was that simple. Why? Because he could read people … and this one would help him achieve success.

~X~

Their skin still felt sticky, saliva, sweat and other intimate liquids drying on them under the steadily declining heat. She had been a little shy after that night, first all smiles and sneaky glances, then a sudden blaze of indignation that had him barely managing to hold back laughter. She had been convinced that she had squealed a lot more then a stuck pig would - why a stuck pig he had no idea. After he spent a good while reassuring her that all women go through the same thing, she had calmed down, but said that she wasn't sure the pain and mess was worth it, even if the _flying _had been pretty good, and all with a little smile on her face.

The little minx.

But he had managed to convince her that it was worth it. Very worth it.

It wasn't that the sex was better with her. He had had good sex, sex that had buckled his knees and left him feeling drained for _days_. But that _life _was good, and life had never been anyway near as good with other women, and because life was so good, sex became explosive. He relished the thought that this was her breast he was cupping, her waist he was biting, and her thighs he was licking secret patterns into.

The very fact that it was her was enough. And he wanted it forever.

"You're not listening," she complained with a sharp elbow to his side.

"I was."

"Really? Then repeat what I just said."

"Uh …" he tried to look cute enough to be forgiven and earned another elbow for his efforts. "Alright, I'm sorry. I'll _never _ignore my Princess again." She glared back stonily at him. "Go on; tell me what you wanted to say."

"I don't want to anymore."

Her uppity tone would have made him laugh, kiss her nose and then hold her flailing arms still enough to slide inside and hear that breathy intake he so loved to be the cause of, it had gotten quite common for them to do just that nowadays, but … not today.

He hadn't told her.

"Can I tell you something then?" he asked nonchalantly. Apollina's mood lifted and she cuddled closer to him, her hand skimming up his chest and across his collarbone, making his breathing hitch and his body begin to tighten.

"A story? The one about how your father was one of Jason's Argonauts."

He shook his head, opened his mouth then shut it again, frowning. "Actually, yes … I'll tell you that story." She grinned, shifted a little so that she could place her head on his chest and settled down to hear the story.

He'll tell her tomorrow.

Tomorrow.

~X~

Except tomorrow, life changed.

While Achilles slept in with Apollina, Patrolocus donned his cousin's armour, picked up his cousin's arms and lead his cousin's Myrmidons to war.

Agamemnon watched. No one knew of course, no one except him, not even the Myrmidons. The boy's frame was so like Achilles' that he doubted their own mothers could tell them apart with all that armour on.

But Agamemnon could see the differences, they were glaringly obvious. The way he held himself was wrong, Achilles conserved energy in his stillness, this boy held himself so taut that his muscles would strain in agony even before the battle got heated. And the lad kept his right foot next to the left one, Achilles always put one foot in front of the other, even while standing still, always ready to sprint if the need arose.

But the boy didn't need to fool them for long. Just needed to last until the battle started.

Surprisingly he lasted quite a while, Achilles' armour was well known and, even as a whipped puppy whose leash was firmly in the hands of his Trojan whore, he was still a man for other men to cower away from. Hector was no mere man though, and he strode directly towards Patrolocus with murder in his eyes.

The lad stood tall and faced him.

And then he stopped lasting.

~X~

She was braiding his hair, "I don't get this! This is impossible!"

"What!" he teased playfully, "next you're going to tell me you can't weave, what kind of woman have I been landed with?" She stuck her tongue out at him but resolutely continued making a tangle out of his hair. He had plaited her own hair back into one thick rope first and tied it off with a thin strip of leather he had clustered with sea shells, they clinked and jangled when she moved, and then had spent almost all morning teaching her how to do his hair.

He encircled her waist and pulled her closer, between his legs, his hands slid up her body and landed confidently on her breasts, she ignored him and continued scowling angrily at his hair as if ordering it to obey and braid itself. He shifted closer, nuzzling hungrily at her chest even as his hands began to pull her dress up her legs.

"My lord!" Eudorus called from outside making him swear and then blanch. The ships must finally be ready … he still hadn't told her but was sure - _positive _- that she would come with him, she loved him, he knew she did. And if she … put up a resistance - which wouldn't mean that she didn't love him … he would deal with it once they were home. She would forgive him, eventually, and forget about Troy …

He detangled her fingers from his hair, stole a kiss from her open mouth and excused himself. Left the tent alone. Frowned at the sight of his men, all his men, standing before him clad in armour. Blood stained armour.

"You led them Eudorus?" he asked with a calm that belied his rage.

Eudorus cringed under his inspection, "no my lord."

"Then who?"

Eudorus faltered, his green eyes wide with fear. "… Patrolocus my lord. We - we thought he … was _you_."

Eudorus didn't scream as Achilles knocked him down to the sand, coughing up blood, and spit, and teeth, and no one dared come to his aid.

Then Achilles went off to collect the body.

~X~

He was naked, striped out of the much sought after, and even more feared, armour that had covered his body. His skin was bruised where he had been trampled on and Achilles wondered if he had felt them stomping all over him while life had ebbed - trickled - out slowly, out of the slice in his neck.

He was going to be King.

Achilles had never believed he would live, if not this war then another would end him. Eventually everyone dies right? Patrolocus was to be his heir, was to have everything that Achilles owned, every spoil of war he had almost died over, every town he sacked.

He was going to look after his aging mother.

Be the son he never had been.

He had planned to announce him as his heir as soon as they had arrived in Troy, spread the news amongst the gathering of Kings, find him a bride, the daughter of a King, and have them married as soon as the war ended.

Or Patrolocus went home with news of his death. Whatever came first.

But then so many things had happened, Patrolocus had continued to demand to be trained to fight, and _he _had found a reason to crave to live.

And now this.

His handsome young cousin was dead. His face was slathered in blood that dyed his hair a vicious red.

His eyes starred glassily at Achilles, in death, they were a colder blue then his.

~X~

A soldier had found him. Fallen on his own sword. Agamemnon wondered whether it was best to follow suit. The men had lost another champion, the titan Ajax, Ajax the Great, as they had taken to calling him now, had committed suicide because his honour, the honour Agamemnon had fed and watered, had been impugned.

During the funeral games held for Patrolocus, Achilles had sent word with Eudorus that he would award his armour - the armour that some believed was made by the god Hephaestus himself - to the _greatest _man in all of Greece. The competition had been between Ajax and Odysseus.

Odysseus won.

Ajax killed himself.

* * *

AN: Sadness, we have to say goodbye to two characters here, I was rather loathe to kill Ajax - but it had to be done. Sorry guys, don't blame me, blame Homer.


	16. Icarus

**Icarus**

The clash between Hector and Achilles rendered everyone numb, and Agamemnon, far from feeling deliriously satisfied, wondered what would happen because of this desecration.

It was just what he had hoped. A scarily silent Achilles had prepared his chariot and sped off for the Citadel, they had all followed behind him, unable to look at each other but praying under their breaths. He had jumped down from the chariot, bellowed Hector's name repeatedly until the gates had opened, and the Trojans had come tumbling out. Hector had walked out amongst them, tall and regal, resplendent with the courage of a man who has nothing to lose, looking back inside once last time at the trembling woman slumped on the floor with a baby in her arms before the gates clanged shut. With a resolute nod, he had walked unflinchingly to face his end …

They just didn't make men like that anymore.

The fight lasted longer than Agamemnon would have thought it would, Hector parried and blocked Achilles lunges but pretty soon began to tire. Achilles hadn't even broken sweat yet. After that, it had been painful to watch, Achilles toyed with him like a cat would toy with a succulent mouse. Prodding it this way, then that way, just to watch the creature squirm. Agamemnon knew Achilles' strengths, and in this one-on-one contest, in an open plain, where he had room to run … and stalk … and pounce … Hector had more chance taking on an army.

A sword through the chest felled the famed hero. He gurgled up blood as his family, up on their high walls, screamed.

Then Achilles did the unthinkable.

He dug a hole in both of Hectors feet with the sharp end of a broken spear, looped a rope through it, tied it to the end of his chariot and dragged the body around the walls.

Three times.

All the while staring straight up at the dead man's family.

The Greeks and the Trojan's had stood frozen in shock as he finished round three and rode back to the camp, united, for once, in the treatment that had befallen a fellow comrade and worthy foe.

King Agamemnon looked up at the sky, the sun glinted down at him threateningly, he offered up a desperate prayer and hoped some god would take pity on him.

He had never asked for _this_.

**~X~**

Achilles dragged the battered body round the mound Patrolocus' ashes had been buried under, leaving behind a circle of red, and then slowed down as he reached his tent. Everyone was waiting for him there, not just his men, but other Kings and their soldiers as well. They watched him silently as he untied Hector's body from the chariot, dragged him towards his tent and left him next to it.

A lion laying claim to a kill.

Then he entered the tent.

She was huddled in the corner, like she used to do when she was afraid of him, and she looked up at him with clear, wide eyes that wordlessly begged him to deny it. To gather her up, kiss away her tantrums and teach her how to say things in strange foreign languages that sounded more like cawing birds rather then words, or fall asleep with his head on her chest as she nattered away about what she had found on the beach, and what new things Nestor had told her about Perseus.

When he did none of that, she keened, a long horrible wail that seemed too old, too pained to come from his sunny, sweet little Princess, which immediately put him in his place.

He loved her more then anything or anyone, but Hector was still first in her estimation.

Would always be first after this.

**~X~**

He was unrecognisable. Apollina threw up, the sick spattered on the sand and on the front of her dress but she just wiped her mouth and took an unsteady step closer.

His body was covered in sand that clung to the blood and was thankfully hiding the tears in his flesh. His face was matted, bruised - flat, not the handsome smiling Prince women had giggled over. Not the man Andromache had blushed over. He looked like something out of Trolius' frightening tales, a monster - an escapee from the depths of Hades … and Apollina was too scared to go any closer.

"Hector," she whispered, a part of her, the silly part, still clinging desperately to the hope that her big brother would sit up, dust off the sand and tweak her nose for being so childish. Childish enough to believe he was dead.

Big brothers don't die.

But he didn't move, she urged and wished and prayed but he just lay there. A tattered Prince, tossed uncaringly on the floor, staring up at the stars.

Tears trailed down her face freely. He had been the world to her. Her larger then life brother who was respected and loved by everyone, who used to carry her around tirelessly, high up on his shoulders, and could laugh her out of any sullen moods.

… And she hadn't seen him for so long … She strained to remember their last parting and found it was kind of blurry … had she hugged him? Had she told him she loved him best? Had she? Despising herself for forgetting she sat down near him, shivering with fear, and reached for his hand.

She drew back in fright. It was cold.

"_Not Icarus, Apollina, what happened to Icarus?"_

"_He flew!"_

"_And then?"_

"… _I don't know."_

"_He flew too close to the sun and it melted the wax holdings his wings together - Daedalus, he didn't fall, you be him."_

She touched the hand again, forcing herself to ignore the horrible cold feeling of it, already losing the feel of life. Shifted so that she could lie down on the sand next to him and placed her head on his bloodstained shoulder like she used to - before - when he had been alive.

His sightless eyes continued to stare upwards, Apollina wanted to close them but was too scared. He would look even deader then. She stretched to kiss his cheek and came scrambling away, scrubbing at lips that tasted of sand and blood.

Her brother's blood … it was on her.

"_He didn't fall, you be him."_

She sat up for most of the night trying to get the sand off him, regretted it immediately when she saw the state of his skin underneath.

"_He didn't fall, you be him."_

**~X~**

She was sleeping next to the corpse, he dragged it away from her, bristling in fury, tied it back on the chariot and lashed at the reins. The horses charged forwards dragging the rapidly rotting flesh behind them.

He had only managed two circles by the time Apollina came tearing into his path making him tug hard at the horses to stop them in time. "I hate you!" she screamed at him, hands out wide to stop him going past her. "You killed him! I hate you! I hate you! _I hope you die!_"

He jumped from the chariot and stormed towards her, dragged her by the arm over to his cousin's tomb and threw her crying form across it, refusing to feel regret. But felt it anyway. "_Your _brother killed him! Killed my cousin. I loved _him _as much as you loved _your _brother and _he _killed him!" he screamed the last bit at her, making her cringe away from him … he wondered what it would take to get her to forgive him for this.

He left her sitting on Patrolocus' mound and climbed back into the chariot, circled the grave over and over again while she watched on, sobbing loudly, her eyes only on her brother's corpse.

They say love, real love, can survive anything. Could it survive this?

**~X~**

"The Archer God Apollo is furious over the defilement of his champion's corpse. That is why he is punishing us with the sores," the prophet, a rangy old man with clouded eyes and snow-white hair decreed as he looked down at the animal entrails on the floor.

"What should we do? How do we please him?" Agamemnon asked cantankerously. A plague had swept through the entire camp and no cures had yet been found. His men were dying in droves and it was all _that _bastard's fault.

"The Prince's body must be returned - with all the honours he is due …" he bent down to look closely at a thick, meaty intestine, "and he must … no -" the man bent down even closer, this time gazing at a kidney. "It isn't too clear. He says that _he _must be returned as well."

"Hector? You already-"

"No. Apollo says that - that Apollo must be returned," the priest looked confused. Agamemnon shared a dark look with Odysseus. "Does that make any sense to you?"

"_Oh yes _… it does. Another question … the war. Will we still win it, if we do this?" The Sun God's displeasure had thrown everything into doubt.

The half-blind prophet scooped up a small bloody heart and turned it over in his hands. "Yes."

**~X~ **

Up in his high walls Priam was alone. The Great Hall was empty; he sat on his towering gold and silver throne alone and pondered what had befallen him. His walls, the walls he had put so much faith in, the walls that kept the Greeks out, now also kept his son away.

"Father …"

"Paris," he sighed, "I want to be alone for a while."

"Father there is a messenger here to see you."

"For God's sake Paris!" he snapped, "I don't care!"

"… He's from Agamemnon."

Priam looked up in shock.

**~X~ **

She hadn't come back to the tent, Eudorus had told him that she was still sitting on top of Patrolocus' mound … it was getting cold outside.

The flap fluttered, Achilles thought it was her, was a little surprised that she had given in so easily, he frowned when a taller shape covered in a heavy black cloak, entered. "Who are you?" The man stepped closer and Achilles put out a hand to stop him. "Careful … don't … ruin them." The stooped fellow nodded and carefully navigated his way through the mounds, then threw the hood of his cloak back.

Achilles had only seen him from a distance but he recognised the old man.

"Priam?" Shame bubbled in him but so did anger.

**~X~ **

"Hey sweetheart, aren't you cold?" Odysseus called out with a friendly grin.

She didn't like him. "No," she replied frostily, wiping the tears off her face as subtly as she could.

"Well I am, how about I take you back to the camp eh? It's getting awfully dark out here … and the blood on the ground will attract all sorts of wild animals." He gazed off into the blackness behind her, "we had a huge problem with wolves the first year. Huge beasts. Carried off four fully-grown men. We found their bones a couple of days later. Scraped clean."

She gulped and eyed the trees behind her, searching for huge skulking shadows. "… Alright." She would sleep outside the tent though, and she'd never touch him again, not ever.

Odysseus smiled and walked ahead of her, she ran to keep up with him.

**~X~ **

Priam had been ready to go, his son's body had been washed clean and wrapped in a beautifully weaved white cloth with gold workings, and the gifts Achilles had given him were heaped up in high piles on the cart he had used to get here. Then a voice he had thought he would never hear again called him, "father?" he spun around just in time to catch his daughter, his son's favourite, in a shocked embrace.

"Apollina? I - we thought you were dead …" he looked at her in amazement, old gnarled hands kneading her hollow, tear stained cheeks to reassure himself that she was here.

"No-" she was crying too much to manage more and he crushed her to him and let her continue sobbing into his robes. He looked at Achilles, wondering if this was the man he should thank for this gift - his face fell at the look on the Greek's face. Achilles looked pained, furious, as if he was barely managing to restrain himself from lashing out and tearing her out of his arms. "Hector he-"

"I know," he whispered, ignoring this frightening revelation for now even as his voice shook in both anger and fear. What he wouldn't give for his old strength … No, no more thoughts like that, after all, he had come to bury a dead son only to be given back his missing daughter in recompense.

The gods really do bless the righteous.

A shorter man with shrewd eyes murmured that it would be getting light soon and it was best if Priam made it back before then, just in case Agamemnon saw. Priam chose not to inform them that it had been Agamemnon who had given him safe passage to pass through in the first place.

"_Remind him of his father, Peleus," _the messenger had intoned, repeating Agamemnon's message word for word. _"It is a sore subject for him. Peleus died calling for his only child, who was abroad fighting wars for me. He came back a year later and found himself King."_

"Yes … my daughter?" he questioned Achilles. There was a poisonous silence for a long while, Achilles stared at Apollina with a clenched jaw and slit like eyes. He stepped forward, hands reaching for her but Apollina pressed herself even further into her father, shaking, whimpering, hiding herself from him.

Priam stared him down, he may not have yesterdays strength but the courage was still there - would always be there. He had lost her once and he was not about to let it happen again. Not while there was still life in his veins.

Achilles flinched, nodded stiffly, hand drifting back down to his side, clenched into a fist to stop himself from pulling her away, then turned and marched back into his tent.

Priam fled with his children and kept one eye fixed on the darkness behind them.

* * *

AN: Okay question time.

- Who do you feel sorrier for? Apollina or Achilles?

- What do you think of Agamemnon so far?

Remember, I have no dedicated editor and am still diligently searching for a Beta, so only you can help me improve my writing. So don't keep anything back, if you think something doesn't work, tell me and I'll work on it.


	17. For The Love Of Paris

_Heya guys, sorry for the long absence, been doing some overtime so I can actually afford to spend all the money that I spend anyway. Moving on, a humongous thank you to you all for your fantabulous reviews - yum yum - and I'm sorry that I couldn't reply to them personally due to crazy work hours … sadness. Hmmm … so most of you feel sorrier for Apollina huh? We'll see if that changes later - yep, you're in for a bumpy ride._

* * *

**For The Love Of Paris**

She could hear them, whispering, staring at her with sad eyes throughout the funeral - all twelve days of it. Her sisters tended to go silent when she walked into the room, then they would blink rapidly and stare, her brothers would storm out with clenched jaws and tight, empty fists, her father watched her sorrowfully, pityingly, while her mother and Andromache cried.

Apollina wondered what Hector would have done.

It was Polyxena who broke the monotony, instead of questioning what had happened to her amongst themselves, Polyxena came straight to her. Apollina had been sitting in her room again, with no one to talk to the big palace felt empty - alien.

"Apollina … may I come in?" Before, Polyxena would have come gliding in, as if she was gracing her with her presence, and called her an 'inky haired little squid' if Apollina had demanded she try knocking next time … Now she waited for an invite.

Apollina thought of saying no but she was lonely, nobody had spoken to her in days, not properly anyway, they hovered nearby, asking if she was comfortable, if she was hungry, thirsty, hot - but stepped away if she got too close, as if afraid she would break if they touched her.

Hector wouldn't have done that.

"Yes. Come in," her beautiful, _whole _sister floated in and sat down on the bed next to her. It was silent for a while. Apollina stared at the floor. Polyxena studied the ceiling.

"I'm here for you, you know that right?" _You are? _"If you … want to talk about what happened … if you need someone to - to listen while you cry, then I'm here." Apollina's mouth jarred open, she wanted to tell them about the way she had tried to clean up Hector's sandy face, how his hand had felt colder then mountain water in winter, how she didn't have the nerve to close his eyes because with it open he looked like he was studying the stars. "What ever that brute did to you," … _brute_? "you can tell me."

… Achilles.

They wanted to know about Achilles.

She clammed up and refused to say anymore. Polyxena waited, waited some more, whispered her name hesitantly then left with a sigh and a shake of her pretty little head.

How could she tell them about him? How could she tell them that she had fallen in love with him, just like in the songs minstrels would sing. Had lain with him willingly, and missed him so much that she had murmured his name in her sleep, dreaming that she was back in their tent, answering questions about how much she had ate that day and ordering him to drop everything and kiss her immediately. Andromache had been convinced she had been having a nightmare and had cried herself hoarse at the ill she had imagined Achilles had submitted her to. All kinds of horrible things, things he had never done, would never do. Not to her … he - he _loved _her.

They said he had obviously starved her, she wished she could tell them that she had been ill often and had refused the tonic that Achilles had diligently bought from the healer. They imagined brutal beatings on the skin he would touch reverently, harsh words when she had gotten used to pet names and endearments, slavery when she had had Achilles himself tending to her wounds and plaiting her hair. And … rape … when it hadn't been.

She missed him so much that she had wished that she was back in his tent - when she came to her senses she had hated herself for it.

Better a murderer than a traitor.

~X~

They all agreed that it was for the best, the only thing they could do for her. Troy was ablaze with talk of Achilles' 'lover,' and she had taken to hiding in her room in shame.

Hector had loved her, had insisted on an immense dowry being set aside for her, Priam added to it and searched for the softest man out of the small group that had been interested. He didn't know what kind of man his son had wanted her to marry but after her … _treatment _in the Greek camp, he wanted to give her to someone gentle. Someone like Ennomus, the timid little augur caught his eye immediately; the man was small and brown with soft crinkly eyes and greying hair. He looked like a man who would never even raise his voice to her.

He looked nothing like Achilles.

~X~

Her stomach began to swell, it had been Andromache who had figured it out first, under the loose peplos it had been unnoticeable. Apollina had thought she had just been gaining weight from the Palace food, all cooked to her liking.

Hecuba was inconsolable.

His wren like future son-in-law became hesitant at the idea of raising Achilles' child as his own.

Priam added to the dowry even more.

~X~

He was cold; no doubt she had tried to wake him, and then had pulled the cover off him when he had ignored her. She would have waited for a little while, wanting to savour her revenge but would have gotten bored of lingering around and then flounced off to annoy someone else. She had taken a sudden interest in taking Eudorus' things and leaving them somewhere else for him to find.

"My lord Achilles," called Eudorus from outside. Achilles grimaced at the chill in the air and got to his feet, stretched, and then made his way towards his second in command.

He rubbed at his sleepy eyes, "what is it, are we heading out to the plains early today?" The sun was barely up, still steaming in the sea. If they were heading out this early he'd have to change into his armour outside, so as not to wake her, and then he'd get Nestor to check on her and feed her.

Eudorus studied him with wide green eyes that held no hostility, "no my lord … it's winter … we won't be fighting the Trojans till summer comes back."

… She wasn't here.

"Wh-" his voice cracked, he glared angrily at Eudorus to mask it, "What do you want then."

Eudorus lowered his eyes at the biting edge in his voice, "Agamemnon ordered us to leave for … for the raid," he said meekly.

Achilles nodded stiffly and re-entered his tent to get ready.

She had left him. He had broken her and she had left without looking back. Not even once.

Anger surged within him and he kicked at a mound near his feet, sand sprayed everywhere, coating his bed and weapons but something white flew with it and landed with a _thunk _on the floor. He walked towards it, bent, and picked it up … it was the seashell necklace his mother had given to him, the one he had given to Patrolocus. The one that had been missing for months.

He looked at the other mounds that littered the room and dove towards them digging through to pull out shoes he had thought he misplaced, Eudorus' dagger sheath, the vial of tonic that had gone suspiciously missing, the hilt of someone's sword … Surrounded by the rubbish she had hidden away like a squirrel, he laughed … and then … he cried.

He wanted her back

~X~

Ennomus smiled at her from across the room and then turned back to the dignitaries he had been conversing with. She turned back to her own group and palmed a hand over her burgeoning stomach; she was huge already, even though she still had a while left. The mid wife had told them that it was the sign of a strong, healthy boy, but that it was likely she would have difficulties during the birth, so she would have to eat and keep her strength up.

"Aren't you excited?" Polyxena asked brightly, her exotically almond shaped eyes full of pity. "I would be," she stared wistfully at her own fiancé, the tall handsome Alcathous. She wasn't to get married for a while yet; the time for her wasn't auspicious enough.

"Yes," she answered quickly, "of course I am." Most of them had started talking to her again, safe conversations only though, her upcoming wedding, their upcoming weddings, the weather … Talk of the Greeks was forbidden around her, as were any mentions of Hector.

She wasn't excited though. Ennomus was a good man; he was gentle and treated her with the respect she was due as a Princess and lady of good breeding, making no mention of how far she had fallen nor of what she was carrying in her stomach. But he wasn't Achilles, and she couldn't tell her family that he wouldn't do because of this fault, as it was due to that one fault that she was being married off to begin with.

~X~

"Why a horse?" Agamemnon questioned as he looked over the horrible black thing.

"Why, what would you prefer?" Odysseus shot back. "Oi! Don't hammer the doors shut you dolt!" The man he had been shouting at grumbled and began to pull the nails out.

"So who will be inside?"

"Me, Peneleos, Ascalaphus … Schedius, and his brother Epistrophus, Ajax, Elephenor and his eldest son. Uh … Menestheus … Euryalus, Nestor's sons, Ancaeus, Sthenelus, Thalpius, Diores … Poly-Polyxeinus? Yes him, and Meges, Meriones, Antiphus, Podarces, Admetus -no, not Admetus- we had to change him for Philoctetes. Machaon, or his brother, they haven't decided. Gouneus, Prothous … Menalaus."

"No, not Menalaus."

"He asked me to include him as well. I couldn't say no!"

Agamemnon clenched his teeth. His brother had a tendency to forget he was now an old man. "The reason he is here is to drag his wife back home. I will not have him die when we are _this _close to winning. Find a reason to leave him behind with the others."

Odysseus nodded.

"Find a _good reason _Odysseus," Agamemnon advised sharply, "one that will not make him feel slighted."

Odysseus nodded again. "Achilles-"

"No I don't want Achilles nor any of his men in there. He will wait outside with the rest of us - right at the back, hopefully everything will be finished by the time he gets there."

Enraged, Odysseus shouted, "he is our best! We need him out there!"

"He is a _mad man! _And I will not have him risking the lives of everyone stuck in that horse with him!" He had heard the reports from the raids he had sent Achilles off too. Greeks spoke off cowering away from him lest he turn on them as well, spoke of how he would wade through a wall of soldiers recklessly and come out painted in blood and gore, spoke of no mercy and no captives.

He killed everyone. Took everything and burnt everything down for good measure.

Odysseys studied the horse again, his clever brown eyes taking in every inch of it. "Well then you tell him that he can't come, I won't."

Looks like the bastard was going after all.

~X~

They had been ordered to signal for the hidden army outside first. They didn't even have to worry about the gates; Odysseus had made sure the horse was wide enough that the Trojans would have to break the gates to get it in. The men jumped down lightly to the ground and waded through the drunken heaps of revellers passed out on the floor towards the walls.

Achilles went the other way.

It wasn't hard to find the palace, it was the tallest and most impressive looking building there, but he knew it would be hard to get inside which is why he would have to wait till they realised they were under attack.

In the chaos, it would be easy.

~X~

The bells were being rung.

People were screaming.

Apollina shot upwards and struggled to stand up with her large stomach; she waddled to the window and looked outside.

Troy was burning.

The door slammed open and she screamed, but it was just Andromache. "Apollina, we have to go!" Andromache had a shrieking Astynyax balanced on her hip. "Come Apollina! We are under attack!"

She walked as fast as she could and let Andromache drag her out of her room. "What do we do?" she panted as she tried to keep up with the older woman. "Where do we go Andromache?"

"We must find Paris first, he - he'll know what to do. Hect - Hector told me to use the tunnels, head into Mount Ida … but we need help … I don't know my way around it."

But when they reached Paris' quarters, it was too late. Paris wouldn't be taking them anywhere. Not like this.

He was writhing like he was on fire, scratching grooves into his skin, his body shiny with sweat, and he was _screaming_. It was an awful sound, a tormented pitiable wail that frightened Astynyax and Apollina until they were screaming with him. Helen had his head on her lap and was dripping tears on his face.

"Helen …" Andromache whispered in horror.

Helen continued stroking her husband's twisted face, wiping the froth that seeped out of his mouth with her shaking fingers. "He went to join the other men, to help them fight … but someone shot an arrow at him. They carried him back to me when they realised it was poisoned." She talked as if in a trance.

"The healer-"

"Came and went. There was nothing he could do." She smiled down at Paris and traced his face with her hands. "My beautiful Paris. There was nothing he could do …" her voice cracked.

Andromache shuddered and walked over to Helen. "The city is falling. Helen … we are leaving."

Helen nodded and continued stroking his face. Andromache knew that Helen wouldn't leave him, if she had been in Helen's place she would have stayed as well. Savoured her last few moments with her husband, imprinted his face into her memory. Which is why she didn't ask Helen to come with her. Andromache would never have left Hector and she knew that neither would Helen.

Wives just weren't created like that.

She turned back to the frightened girl who was slumped against the wall, crying, her eyes unable to leave the scene of Paris tearing at his own flesh. "Apollina - we have to leave. We … will find someone else."

"Aeneas," whispered Helen. "Look for Aeneas; he was gathering people together - to leave Troy."

Andromache nodded her thanks and ran out the door.

Apollina stayed inside long enough to hear Paris whisper through a gritted smile for Helen not to cry.

"Do not worr- worry. We will - be together in the next life, Helen. I - _I love you_," he whispered to her in-between pained gasps.

"Come Apollina!" shouted Andromache.


	18. Over the Walls and Across the Seas

**Over the Walls and Across the Seas**

When he finally found her she was sitting on the ground in shock, Greek soldiers stood around her and a tall thin woman, screaming all the way, was being dragged away to join the other women that had been caught. The soldiers stood back, stepping away from her as soon as they saw him and he joined her on the dirt.

"Apollina," he whispered, feeling relief light him up from the inside, suddenly overtaking the anger that had been simmering there at the fact that she had left him in the first place, tilting her head up to see him. Drinking in the face he hadn't seen for months, the skin he hadn't touched, the voice he hadn't heard ... Her eyes were reddened and wide, she looked beyond him, her mouth moved soundlessly. She was trying to tell him something but couldn't get it out. "What is it? Did someone-"

"No one touched her," Odysseus said from behind him. "She saw me throw Hector's son off the walls." Odysseus sighed, tired and bloody, shoulders slumping, and went back to join his men, pretty soon they would cull the herd, separating all those that they wanted and killing all the rest. This was war. If Hector had come to sack Greece, then he would be doing the same thing - including killing any heirs. You couldn't take the risk that the boy would grow up and come avenge his father. And a Prince's son wouldn't come alone either.

He turned back to Apollina and moved to pick her up, what he had thought was a large crease in her peplos didn't flatten, it stayed solid … and round.

"You - you're - a baby?" he asked in wonder as he placed a palm over the hard swell of her stomach. "It's mine." He didn't even have to question it.

She nodded tiredly and reached her arms out, asking to be picked up. "A boy …" He couldn't stop the smile that graced his face as hefted her up and gently carried her away, crooning reassuringly, happily, into her ear.

~X~

She was sitting sideways on his lap, letting him stroke her hair and palm her stomach, he couldn't stop touching it. The Kings who were sitting with him stared at her but she didn't care. The captive Trojans who were sitting on the ground in heavily guarded groups stared at her … but she was too drained to care.

She couldn't stop picturing it. Andromache's shrill scream as her baby was torn from her grasp and tossed carelessly over the wall. Astynyax's wails of terror as he flew. The soft _thump_. And then the silence. And just like that, it was over. Her brother's bloodline had ended.

She would never be able to comment that Astynyax had her brother's shy smile, or his large ears, his mother would never be able to look at him and have the comfort of knowing that at least Hector had given her a child before he died.

She hoped with all her remaining strength that Odysseus would suffer for what he had done. Let him lose _his _child, _his _loved ones, and _his _home, and feel a _fraction _of the pain that Andromache was feeling. Let him suffer.

The meeting dragged on, they were arguing over something but she couldn't concentrate on the words.

"Achilles … what about you? How many slaves do you want? Any preferences?" Odysseus asked. She hated him.

Achilles traced a finger around her covered belly button. "None, I don't want any," the other warlords sounded bewildered at this. He brushed a stray curl behind her ear, "I'll be leaving before it gets dark."

"Today?"

She felt his body move as he nodded; she tilted her bleary eyes up to his face. "You're leaving?"

He looked down at her, "you're coming."

Her eyes began to drift shut; she nodded and curled back into him.

~X~

She woke up on a swinging bed with her dress rucked up under her arms and Achilles' ear pressed to her stomach.

"Why is the bed swinging?" she questioned trying to sit up.

He lifted his head off her belly and helped her sit up, the dress fell back down, covering her up to her waist. "We're on a boat. To Hellas."

She blinked, looked at him, nodded and went silent.

~X~

"My mother?"

"Dead." The old Queen had thrown herself off the ship into the sea.

"Polyxena?"

"Dead." Sacrificed to appease the angry spirits of all the Greeks who had died here.

"My father?"

"Dead." The old King had tried to protect his children from pillaging soldiers as they huddled around him in fear.

"Polydorus?"

"Dead." King Polymestor had cut the boy into little pieces and scattered it to show the Greeks that he was on their side, and had nothing to do with the Trojans. Queen Hecuba had gouged out his eyes as soon as she saw him and no one had stopped her, not even Agamemnon. A traitor was a traitor after all and not to be trusted by anyone.

"Cassandra?"

"… Dead," She had been raped by Ajax the lesser at the feet of Athena's statue but was now heading to Mycenae with Agamemnon, who had taken a liking to her.

"Andromache?"

"Dead as well." Tlepolemus of Rhodes had wanted her, the Seer Helenus as well; another brother of hers, all the other males had been killed. He knew she would forever hold onto a little bit of hope of her old home and old family if he told her that they lived but he wanted her to forget Troy, forget all that had happened here … especially what he had done to her brother. They needed a fresh start, a new beginning, and everything that would remind her of the home she loved, even Trojan slaves, would have to be left behind.

He would give her a new home, new loved ones. New memories.

She blinked back tears, "… Helen?"

"Menelaus will be taking her back to Sparta." This was safe, there was no love lost between these two.

"Oh."

Then she went silent and didn't speak to anyone for twelve days.

~X~

Thetis could see it now, a tall dark ship with black sails, getting bigger with every moment.

Her son was home.

She restrained herself from running up the plank to her boy and waited until he made his way down to her.

"Achilles …" she sighed with relief as she finally collapsed in his arms, feeling all her worries for him finally float away. He let her hug him stiffly, he never had been one for acts of affection, and suffered through her perusal of his body with an amused sigh. He was leaner and darker and she could see the new scars he had bought back with him, most of them thin and white though they still made her heart clench in anger and fear. "I have a - a surprise for you."

"I believe I have one for you too." Was he _smiling_? Thetis watched in surprise as Achilles turned around and called out to Eudorus, who escorted forward a short dark girl with a bulging stomach. "Mother, this is Apollina. My wife - and the mother of my child."

Well …

"What?" shouted the boy behind her, he stepped forward and looked at her. His pale blue eyes seething with anger.

Achilles raised an eyebrow at the overconfident young lad who was glaring at his mother. "Who is _this_?" he asked Thetis.

Thetis blinked and bit her lip, "this is Neoptolemus … your son."

* * *

_AN: I know, I know, I deserve to be shot, trampeled__, spat on, tickeled, kicked in the funny bone and have my Achilles taken away from me for making you wait this long ... I'm sorry guys, real life (cruel mistress that she is) said no to procrastinating and demanded that I do some 'real' work. what ever that is. _

_And anyway, what are your thoughts on this chapter? Mind that we are not far from the end now, in fact only a few more chapters to go (WHY!!! OH GOD WHY!!!???). Oh and what do you think of the two sons storyline? and a prezzie to anyone who can guess what name i will be giving to the son Apollina will be having._


	19. Neoptolemus

**Neoptolemus**

"Your mother sent you here?"

The boy nodded, sullenly glaring at him with familiar looking eyes. He looked a lot like Achilles; blond hair, tall for his age, sharp blue eyes, but with his still growing body and thin chest he reminded Achilles more of Patrolocus. And didn't that sting.

He would have dismissed the boy had he just been a commoner, bastards were a granted problem for Kings and he had never been a saint. He probably had children all over the place. If he had accepted them all, his country would have been ravaged by wars, fought between son and son and eventually someone else would have sneaked in and taken over. Someone like Agamemnon who was just waiting for a chance to add more cities to his name. But this boy was a Prince, the grandson of King Lycomedes, the one his mother had sent him to as a boy himself. Princes couldn't be ignored, not unless he wanted a very powerful enemy knocking on his door.

"You do not … want to stay with her?"

The boy's glare deepened, "she has remarried. Has children of her own."

Ah. So that was the problem. They sent him here hoping that Achilles would either accept him as his heir or deal with him, they didn't want the boy growing up and demanding to be made King using his place as firstborn for an excuse.

"And how old are you?" If Achilles had died at Troy then this boy would have been noted as his heir, and then King Lycomedes would have acknowledged him then as his blood relative, encouraging him to become an ally and using him to his gain. If Patrolocus had come back he would have found a challenger to his throne and everyone would have agreed that a son had more right to rule then a cousin.

The boy huffed and cocked a blond brow upwards, "you do not know your own son's age, _father_?."

He knew he should have stuck to bedding slave girls and peasants.

~X~

The celebration had been horrible. Achilles had left with -his _son_- leaving her to attend his welcoming feast alone. The people had been really nice at first, his mother had asked her about the baby and urged her to eat just about everything on the table ... but then she asked where she was from. Whose daughter she was.

She told them.

No one had talked after that.

She had sat through the rest of the feast, nibbling on the same honey cake, and then had let a servant show her to Achilles' room.

He slid into bed a little after dawn and spooned her from behind.

"Is he your son?" she whispered, staring out the large breezy window at the rising sun.

He sighed and placed his forehead on her shoulder. "Yes."

"His mother-"

"Happened a long time ago," he said, cutting off her question. "I was a boy and she was there. I didn't know that she was pregnant. She's married with children of her own now. She meant nothing to me then … and means nothing to me now … _Apollina _…" he kissed her neck moistly, his breathing quickened making her heartbeat speed up as well, "lie on your back," he whispered as he grinded desperately into her bottom.

Apollina looked over her shoulder, "the baby?" even as she pressed back into him. She had missed him, missed this, missed the way he would touch her as if he would die if he didn't. Missed the way he would make her thrash and wish for death because it was _just … too … much_.

"I'll be gentle. I promise." The grinding suggested otherwise but she knew she could trust him, although all hard and sharp edges with other people he was nothing but careful with her.

She nodded her assent readily and rolled onto her back. He tugged her sea green peplos up her ankles, spent a little while kissing each of her toes, trying to calm the boiling in his blood so that he could think clearly with her in such a delicate condition. "That tickles." He licked the skin in-between her digits and she kicked him away. "Stop! That really tickles!" He laughed with her and threateningly lunged for her feet again which made her shriek and swat at him with her foot since she couldn't sit up. He conceded defeat and smiled as he continued his perusal.

Her ankles were bigger, swollen and he laved at them apologetically with the tip of his tongue before continuing up her legs which had also gotten thicker. Her stomach was hard and wide and his little Princess looked dwarfed under the size of it. She had stretch marks which looked like pale little branches that he kissed and followed to their roots. Her breasts were only slightly bigger, the nipples swollen, longer, but she hissed in pain when he closed his mouth over them so he let them be for now. All these changes ... and he hadn't been there to see them, to look after her and sit with her as she fretted.

"Achilles … please …" she moaned. Her eyes were clenched shut, he suddenly wanted to see them.

"Open your eyes," he breathed as he shifted into position. She was soaked, dripping. Apollina groaned as he slid in, her bloated fingers fisted the bedspread tightly. "I … want to see them." Her eyes slowly opened and those brilliant greys blinked up at him making her breathing hitch as he surged into her a little harder.

He knew what they looked like now, knew the exact colour they reminded him of. "They look-" he grunted as she arched and came around him, rippling and tightening in a way that nearly made him come, "-like swords."

Like a sword glinting in the sun - a powerful, vivid grey. A grey he was so intimate with he should have known immediately. It struck him as funny that he had swapped one grey for another.

She whispered his name delicately, looking up at him with soft eyes that shimmered with tears and he bucked and came hard, spilling into her endlessly, jaw clenching at the effort it took to stop from collapsing onto her. He pulled out and fell on the bed next to her. Drained.

* * *

**AN: I Have been bad and deserve a spanking that should knock me out. Okay, i deserve worse. Lots of stuff happened, including my laptop crashing ... which took forever to fix, and then the screen breaking mere days after I got it fixed. Add to that work, friends who demand my full attention, some family problems, a house move, studies (not helped by the problematic laptop) and you have what you call a disaster. Currently i am uploading this off a laptop i have ... borrowed for a couple of hours, so i can't say i will update next week but i will update asap. sorry guys - but! Hey! Love scene to make it up to you, not a long one but love scene nonetheless. **

**Oh and i am filled with dissapointment! None of you got the baby name right! Tut tut tut lol! **


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